It was wrong.
It was cruel.
It was undeserved.
The judge’s ruling wasn’t justice; it was ass covering at Billy’s expense. Hannah put her hands on her knees and looked around her room: the closet with the louvered doors, the big bed covered with a purple cloth shot with gold threads from India, the dressing table that she had painted in the colors of the earth and sky and sea, the chair in the corner, the windows looking toward Hermosa Boulevard, and her easel.
She stood up and turned back the sheet that covered the canvas. It was time to finish. Hannah mixed the blues, laid the color, added white accents, the black outline, and was satisfied. The eyes were pools not to drown in but to float in and therein lay their magic. Peaceful eyes. Perfect eyes. The phone rang. She picked it up.
“We missed you,” Josie said.
“I didn’t feel like partying. It was a good surprise,” Hannah answered.
Josie laughed, “Yes, it was. Faye says she’s sorry she kept it a secret from you.”
“That’s alright. I’m used to-”
Hannah caught herself. Josie had been right at the hospital. The past wasn’t an arsenal to be used against someone who had never attacked her. She said:
“It’s cool.”
“Hannah, I’m going to Archer’s. Will you take Max out? Is that okay?”
“Yes,” the girl said quietly.
“I’ll be back early. I promise. We’ll have breakfast before I go to the hospital.”
“Don’t worry, Josie. I’m fine. Really.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Josie!” Hannah called her back, relieved when she was still there. Hannah said: “You won’t worry, will you? I don’t want you to worry.”
“No, Hannah. I won’t. Sleep well.”
The line went dead. Hannah held her cell to her heart for a moment. She pulled in a deep breath, sat down at the dressing table, and wrote a note that she put on the easel. When she was done, Hannah went to the entry where Max was curled up on his rug. She hunkered down and drew her fingers through his fur. Once, twice, three and four times, and then he woke as old creatures do: slow and blurry eyed, surprised by nothing, accepting of whatever was in front of their nose. She thought it strange that the dog chose to sleep so that he could watch the front door and the comings and goings of those he had grown to love. He waited better than she did; he accepted with more grace than she did.
“Come on, Max.” Hannah didn't bother to put the leash on him. Max would not run away even if he could, and it was wrong to tether him to anything.
They walked out into the night, the old dog and the beautiful girl. She held the gate and saw that his hip hurt. They ambled down the walk street, Max sniffing at the walls that separated small gardens or squares of concrete patios. Lights shined from most of the houses, and inside everything was safe and warm. Few people drew their curtains, something Hannah never understood. Someone standing in the dark, like she was, could see everything. From the clock on the kitchen wall to salt and pepper shakers on the dining room table where Mr. Harrigan hovered over his computer. She could see the bunnies and stars on the Glaskow children's pajamas as they sat together in one big chair watching television.
Hannah's nose twitched when a raindrop fell on the tip of it. She wiped it away. More fell, but she paid them no mind. There were hours before the real storm hit and hours before Josie came home; precious time that Hannah needed.
Throwing her head back, Hannah let Hermosa sweep over her: the wind, the scent of wet sand and briny ocean, the sense of contentment from the houses where families gathered, the sounds of music muffled by closed patio doors, the rush of water and the peace. Tears came to Hannah's eyes and she shook them away. She did not love Hermosa Beach, she did not love Josie or Archer, and she did not love these people. She would not love them. This had been a dream and she was waking up.
"Come on Max." Hannah spoke more sharply than she intended. Ignoring the underlying quiver in her voice, she hurried him back to Josie’s house. If she didn’t get there soon, she would not be as brave as she knew she must be.
She walked quickly and the old dog kept up as best he could but still Hannah had to wait at the gate. Inside, she bedded him down but did not hunker by his side to pet him to sleep. Mechanically, Hannah went about doing what she must: lights were turned on, the few dishes were done, and the mail was stacked. She made her bed, put away her paints, dealt with her clothes and, finally, sat at her dressing table and opened her lacquer box.
Hannah had an overwhelming desire to run to the shore and throw the thing into the sea. Instead, she stared at the contents and thought of her mother, of Miggy who had disappeared into the streets again, of her father who she had never known and didn’t care to know. Hannah always knew she would have to save herself, but she never knew she would have to do it with a heart so full of pain. She needed to make it stop.
Hannah took out a set of keys and a pair of gold handled scissors. Finally, she peeled back the red velvet lining and uncovered three razor blades. In the low light, the finely honed edges glinted. They were the most beautiful things Hannah had ever seen: simply constructed, pedestrian in their purpose, and yet so full of promise. She chose one and pushed up the long sleeves of her hoodie.
In this light, the map of raised scars on her forearm looked like a relief map of pink and white and brown hills and valleys. She was a pitiful sight, and that thought almost made her put the razor away, but she was cutting before she knew that she had begun. There was a long, thin slice in the flesh that bled enough for Hannah to be satisfied. She switched hands and this time she drew the blade down her left arm.
Once . . .
Twice . . .
Three times she used the blade. Turning her arms out, she watched the blood seep from the wounds. It was warm and it dripped onto the glass top that covered the table. She felt better. The anger wasn't there. The fear was gone. The pain was nonexistent. All that was left was the resolve to do what she must.
Hannah tossed the razor blades back in the box and picked up the scissors. She raised her hands and looked at the blood staining her wrist. It was time to be done with this.
***
Josie woke in Archer's arms: warm, blessed, and damn scared. Her eyes darted around the room, but there was nothing there. Gently, she moved Archer's hand and slid out of bed. He turned, murmuring something in his sleep as she left. In the living room Josie looked around, half expecting something to materialize. There was nothing in the apartment but familiar things. Josie ran her fingers down the rosary beads that hung around a beer bottle Archer had put on the bookshelf. The light from the coffee maker in the kitchen glowed. She opened the door to the deck and walked to the railing. Hermosa slept, so there was no one to see the tall, naked woman on the deck of the old apartment building.
Josie raised her face. Raindrops fell on her shoulders, and lips, and chest. Her breasts pricked with the cold, her muscles tightened, but she paid no mind. She was trying to grasp that elusive, insistent feeling that had disturbed her. It was so familiar.
What was it? What?
Then she knew what it was and the knowledge was more terrifying than she could have imagined. Backing away, wrapping her arms around her nakedness, Josie Bates sank to the floor of the deck and faced the thing square on.
This was the same feeling that had awakened her long ago in Texas when she was just a girl. It made her leave her bed and go to her mother’s bedroom door. That feeling caused such fear that Josie could not, would not, open that door.
Huddled on the deck, Josie was suddenly no older and no wiser. She was thirteen again. Her head fell back. Tears fell from her eyes and mixed with the raindrops. All alone, she cried in the black night.
Someone was leaving her again, and she couldn’t open the door to stop them.
CHAPTER 29
2013
The American boy had been with the Peace Corps for one year and seven months.
There were still five more months before he went home. As much as he had come to love Albania, he would never be Shqiptare. No Shqiptare would run for the sheer pleasure of running, climb the pill boxes that littered the countryside willy-nilly, jump across streams when he could step over them, or chase cows that were perfectly happy not to be chased. Old women waved their fingers at him as he passed, old men looked at him with faded eyes, children stopped playing, mothers stopped hanging their wash to watch him go by, and always he called out to ask if they were well, waving his hand, giving them a great big American smile.
He stopped to speak to the old woman who knit while she watched her sheep, the one who said she had seven daughters, and two were not married, and one would be happy to go to America to marry to him. He laughed and said he did not need a wife. The toothless woman laughed back and assured him he would change his mind when he saw her daughters. Then the American volunteer asked after Gjergy Isai, but the woman did not know him. So he asked after the Zogaj family and the woman smiled her toothless smile. She pointed him toward the mountain and a trail he knew a little. She warned him to be careful where he stepped because he was a good boy, and her daughter needed a husband. She did not want him to walk on the mines that were still buried under the earth.
He went off, calling his thanks for her warning, and wishing her the blessings of God. Then he did as he had been told. He stepped carefully across the rock and stones so that he didn't get blown to smithereens before he found the Zogaj family.
2013
Hannah parked the VW in the small lot on the west side of Torrance Memorial Hospital. There were only six spaces because this was used only to discharge patients. It was raining pretty hard, so she put up the hood on her slicker, got out, and dashed toward the wide awning. The automatic doors opened. The guard had taken shelter inside. She smiled at him.
"Back in a minute. Late discharge."
He mumbled something and made no move to stop her. She took the elevator to the second floor. It felt like the twilight zone in the hospital. Patients had been fed, bathed, medicated, wounds redressed, charts noted. The shift had changed. The lights were low. There was silence, as if everyone had bedded down by a campfire and dozed off. Hannah measured her steps, not wanting to bring too much attention to herself. The young nurse behind the desk smiled at her. Hannah smiled back but kept her hood in place.
“It’s raining again, huh?”
“Yep,” Hannah answered.
She walked on. At the far end of the hall, a man was mopping the floor. To her left were a couple of shower rooms. There was a wheelchair outside one of them. Hannah didn’t hesitate. She wheeled the chair into room 217 where Billy slept.
"Billy?" she put her hand on his shoulder. "Billy. You've got to wake up."
His eyes opened. He smiled at her. She slipped the hood off her head and, as she did so, a look of awe crossed his face.
"Hannah, what did you do to yourself?"
Hannah put her hand to her head and felt the prickly stubble. It was all that was left of her hair. She had taken out her nose ring and washed her face clean. She wore shapeless scrubs and tennis shoes. Anyone in that hospital could look at her and swear she was not the same girl who had been sitting by Billy Zuni’s bedside all these days.
"It doesn’t matter. You've got to get up."
"But why did you cut off all your hair?"
Billy struggled to sit up and Hannah helped him.
“Are you on any drugs?” she asked.
He shook his head, “I don’t think so. Why?”
“Because I’m going to get you out of here and if you need meds I’d have to figure out how to get them.” She looked around the room. “Archer said he left clothes here.”
“In the closet,” Billy directed. “Does Josie know you’re here?”
“No. We can’t call Josie. You’ve got to get dressed now. We don’t have much time.”
Hannah found a pair of jeans and started to shimmy him into them, but he pushed her away.
“No. Stop. This isn’t right. I want to call Josie,” he hissed.
Hannah glared at him. She wasn’t angry with Billy as much as she was afraid for him. She thought he would just go with her. She never thought she would have to tell him why.
“Just do what I say, please. We’ll work it all out, I promise.”
“I wouldn’t go without Rosa. I won’t go without talking to Josie.”
“Well, you’re going to have to,” Hannah snapped. “And if Josie knew about this, she’d get in trouble because she’s your attorney.”
Billy grabbed hold of her shoulders so fast Hannah lost her balance and fell back onto her heels.
“Hannah. I’m not doing anything just because you tell me to. That’s what I did with Rosa. I did what she told me, too, and look what happened. I wasn’t there to protect her. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Hannah blinked at this strange person, a man so unlike the boy who dogged her footsteps, who smiled even when the kids at school made fun of him, who took in stride his mother’s orders to stay out of his own house. Here, in this room, he looked as if he had aged. He was not going to weather the storm, he wanted to face it. But Hannah knew better. It was a trick of the light that made him seem as if he could stand on his own. They had to do this together.
“You can’t help Rosa where you’re going,” Hannah got on her knees again. “Josie’s coming tomorrow to tell you they’re going to put you into the psyche ward. They can keep you as long as they want, Billy. They think you’re crazy.”
“I’m not crazy, Hannah.”
“I know,” she whispered.
She put her hands on Billy’s legs once more and pushed his jeans up, nudging his hips right and then left until they were on. She stood up and eased the button-front shirt over his cast and around his shoulders. She spoke quietly, quickly.
“Get in the wheelchair. We have to hurry.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe. No one will think to look where I’m taking you.”
Billy made a move. Hannah helped him off the bed.
"Okay, but first there’s something I have to do."
“There’s no time.”
“Then I don’t go.”
“Okay.” She put his backpack in his lap and covered him with the blanket from the bed. Hannah got behind the chair, grasped the handles and asked: “Where to?”
“You know where,” Billy answered.
****
“Oh God, Hannah.”
Billy’s knees buckled but he stayed upright and put his hand on his sister’s hair. He touched her swollen face and lifted her bandaged hands. He cried silently, his sorrow so deep he could not give voice to it. Hannah lowered her eyes for a moment. When she looked again she saw a miracle. Rosa Zuni’s eyelids fluttered. Like a blind person, she moved her hand but missed the connection with Billy. He grasped it and guided it to his chest. That’s when Rosa Zuni opened her eyes.
“Besnik,” Rosa whispered. “A jeni mirë?”
Billy sobbed. His gut pulled together so that he could hardly speak. Finally, he managed.
“I’m good, Rosafa.”
Her eyes closed to show she understood and they stayed closed as she drew on the last of her strength.
“Unë të dua, Besnik,” she whispered. “Drejtuar.”
“No, Rosa. No,” Billy sobbed.
Hannah drew along side.
“What does she say?”
“She said she loves me.” His gaze lingered on his sister and then he swung his head toward Hannah. “She said to run.”
CHAPTER 30
2013
The American who had come to Albania to make peace found the house in which the Zogaj family lived. The father had gone off to work, and the mother was tending to a garden in front of her house. There was a girl who saw the young man first. The mother came to the front of the property near the fence and watched him come. He hailed her with all the polite greetin
gs of a respectful person. She greeted him back, asking how he felt and whether things were good.
He replied that he was good. Yes, indeed, he was very good. So he asked after her and when they finally agreed that all was well with them, the young man who came to teach the children English but now was on a mission for the furgon driver asked the woman:
“A e dini Besnik Zogaj? A e dini Gergy Isai apo zotin Oi?”
“Do you know Besnik Zogaj. And do you know Gergy Isai and Mr. Oi?”
The color drained from the woman’s face and she fell at the young man’s feet. The girl screamed and ran to her mother. And the young man did not know what was happening and, when the mother was revived, he wished that she had never told him.
2013
“Okay. Yes. You’re sure? Yeah. Okay. I’ll meet you there. Half an hour?”
Josie was starting to dress before the call from Montoya was even disconnected. Archer was out of bed, buttoning his shirt even though it was still early.
“What’s up?”
“Billy’s gone. The nurse went in to check on him when the shift changed, and he wasn’t there. His backpack is gone, his gown was there.”
“Let me guess. Hannah’s not answering her phone,” Archer said.
“I’m going home to see if I can find anything there, then I’ll meet Montoya at the hospital.”
Josie zipped her jeans and pulled on her sweater and stepped into her boots. When she looked up, she saw Archer staring at her. He knew she hadn’t told him everything. There was no sense keeping it from him.
“Rosa Zuni died last night.”
Archer pulled his lips together. “Anybody see Billy or Hannah around her room?”
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