First Days After

by Jay Vielle

  Tommy stared at me, flummoxed a bit by my speech. Things got really awkward, and I wasn’t sure where they’d go. I patted Tommy on the back, then moved up to the front of the bus. Maureen grabbed me on my way past.

  “Where to now? Virginia Tech?” she asked.

  “I guess so. Son number one is here, son number two is in Blacksburg.”

  “I have an idea,” she said, and rose to move to the front of the bus.

  “Jake,” said Maureen. “We’ve been living on rations for days, and this town is open for business. What do you say we stop here and get a bite to eat? Just eat out, like regular people. We don’t have to stay long. I know you’re worried about your younger son, but it could do wonders for our spirits, you know?”

  Jake pursed his lips, and frowned slightly. He took a deep breath, and shook his head.

  “The mission’s not over yet, Mo,” he said. “I’m sorry, but there will be time to eat after.”

  Wendy chimed in. “Oh please, Jake,” she said. “Ray and I are famished, and this could really help us bounce back. We’ve all seen such terrible things. Just a little normalcy. Just for an hour or so.”

  Jake softened at her tone, and she gently lay her hand on his shoulder, and you could see him slump just a bit when she did. He exhaled and said, “Okay.”

  “Tommy, any recommendations on a place to eat?”

  “I have an idea,” said Maureen. “Isn’t this the town where that restaurant kicked out the president’s staff?”

  “I remember that,” I said. “The Red Hen. That’s good enough for me,” I shouted. And off to the Red Hen we went.

  CHAPTER 11

  After a very nice meal that Wendy paid for with her credit card, the entire group found itself in better spirits. The food was top notch, and the location in that quaint, historic town in central Virginia was a pleasant escape from what we’d seen the past few days. Sitting at the table all together, feasting and talking, there was a strange feeling of escape that was just what the doctor ordered. All of the death, destruction, violence—all of that was briefly forgotten, and we ate and laughed and learned each other’s stories. We all took turns telling where we were from, and I had the shortest story, as most of the teacher and students already knew.

  Estela’s story was fascinating. She had been born in Texas, but she said her parents were illegal immigrants from the Guanajuato region of Mexico. Her parents, despite having lived in the U.S. for nearly two decades, were part of a government sweep of ICE agencies in the southwest. They had been discovered and deported back to Mexico. Estela, at age twenty, had the choice of going with them or remaining, but it had taken nearly a month in a California holding cell in Victorville in horrific conditions for the government to finally release her and admit that she was a citizen. Even then, the president had mentioned wanting to remove citizenship through birth. Estela’s parents had made it back to San Miguel de Allende, where their family was from. Estela had stayed there on and off as a child, as her parents had gone back and forth to tend to sick family and to help with the family store there. Once released from Victorville, Estela decided to move as far away from Texas as she could. She had moved to Emmitsburg to be with a friend who had gone to college at Mount St. Michael’s. She apparently had experienced a falling out with her friend, and was left to make her own way working at the Wal-Mart.

  As the conversations went back and forth, I pressed her a little.

  “What kind of friend would abandon you after your story?” I asked. “You move all the way from Texas to nowhere, Maryland. You set up shop, get a job. Your whole family is in Mexico, and she just, what, disowns you? What a bitch!” I said.

  “She’s not a bitch,” said Estela. “She, she had her reasons.”

  “Reasons? You’re in need. Sorry, no forgiveness for that. No merced.”

  “Fue la merced que buscaba cuando me dejó.” She whispered. It was mercy she sought when she left me. And then it hit me. How could I, of all people, be that dense. I leaned over and whispered. “Oh my God. You’re gay, aren’t you?”

  She looked around nervously, then at the ground, then nodded. “Sí.”

  “Well join the club, sister,” I said in my sassy voice. “I’m sorry I called your ex-friend a bitch,” I said. “Was it a Catholic thing?”

  “Sí. Her…professor told her it was a mortal sin, and he threatened that if she didn’t leave me that he would tell the university about her, and she would be kicked out of school.”

  “They can’t do that!” I said.

  “Well, that professor made her believe that he could. I told her that she should bring it up to someone at the college, like a dean or something, and tell them that it was a friend of hers and that she was worried and see what they said. I told her that in this day and age, even the Catholic Church would not go so far. But she was too afraid. No one in her family back in Texas knows, and she’s ashamed. Not everyone has the benefit of your freedom and courage, Eduardo. She made a difficult decision. It’s for the best.”

  “I’m so sorry, Estela,” I said.

  “You are outwardly gay in a public school world. You will have people that hate you and disagree with your lifestyle, but you have rights. My girlfriend, she comes from a very different place. I have been hiding who I am most of my life, and she still hides. Now she denies who she is. And she denies me,” she said, choking on the last words and trying not to cry. I gave her a hug, and she slumped in my arms.

  “We gotta stick together, chica,” I said. “Especially now.” She nodded with her head buried in my chest.

  While I began to bond with Estela, I noticed that Wendy had completely captivated Jake with her own life story. I also noticed Tommy’s icy stare from the other end of the table. His father was smiling, however briefly, and paying attention to the beautiful Japanese woman whose personality was like a bright light, and everyone at the table were moths gravitating her way.

  “My mom met my dad in the 1960’s,” said Wendy. “She was an exchange student in Tokyo in college. My father fell in love with her almost instantly, and he began to get pressure about aligning himself with an American. He decided to marry my mother and move to the United States. They landed in Washington, D.C. I was born in 1979, and grew up in Bethesda, Maryland. My parents worked for a large Japanese importer and made lots of money. I went to all the best schools, met some of the most powerful people in D.C., and they sent me away to a fancy private girl’s college. After a couple of years, I rebelled. I couldn’t stand all of the privileged people I was around. My parents were nothing like that. I had been raised by a humble Japanese man who simply wanted the best for his daughter, but the people I hung out with at my preppy high school and the girls I met at my college—they weren’t my style at all. They were smart, and lots of them were nice, but they were spoiled. Nearly every one of them. I couldn’t stand it, so I left school after my sophomore year and became a flight attendant. I traveled the world for six years before finally coming back to my roots and finishing my education at American University in Washington. One of my international fights had taken me to Nigeria, and I had seen outbreaks of diseases there and how devastating they were. I decided to come home, go back to school, and find a way to do something about it.”

  “So, you became a medical student at what, age twenty-six?” asked Al DeFillipo.

  “Twenty-seven, and not medical school. I have a PhD, not an M.D. My focus is on diseases, but in a more theoretical sense. I don’t really treat them myself. I defended my dissertation at age thirty-three and went to work at NIH the same week.”

  “Wow,” Al said. Al was as hypnotized by Wendy as any of us were. She was truly gorgeous, and always smiled, and laughed at everyone’s attempts at humor. Maureen was clearly jealous, but even she privately admitted that she couldn’t hate Wendy no matter how she tried, and she couldn’t blame Al for staring at her all night. It seemed everyone else was.

  Especially Jake.

  “So, Dad, you gonna tell your st
ory now?” shouted Tommy across the table. “Gonna tell everyone the story of how you met mom?” There was a tinge of anger in his voice, and it was noticeable by everyone.

  “My story’s not that interesting, Tommy. Why don’t you tell everyone what it’s like going to VMI? I bet they don’t know much about that,” said Jake, trying to deflect a bit. Tommy frowned. After an awkward pause, Jake mumbled, “Yeah, I didn’t think so,” he said. Jake frowned, and an even more awkward silence followed.

  Maureen saved us from the awkwardness. She began talking about her life growing up on Long Island, her exchange program studies in the Dominican Republic, her handsome and athletic husband who played professional baseball and how exciting he was when they were young. Then, of course, she mentioned his infidelities, and went on another brief man-hating rant. She apologized to me, of course. She always did that. It was funny. She was an entertainer, and you could see how that would translate into her being a good teacher. But she was also a little sad, and that part spilled over sometimes. Al DeFillipo put his arm around her when she got to the part about the infidelities, and she smiled and hugged him back when she discussed how awful men are.

  After Maureen’s tales, the energy broke up and several of us went to the bathroom. As dumb as it sounds, a nice restaurant bathroom was an unexpectedly joyous change from schools, porta-potties, and the side of the road. Jake, I noticed, had gone outside onto the porch. Wendy followed him, and I decided to spy on them a little. I felt bad for Jake, but I think I felt worse for Tommy. Losing your mom and not being able to see her, to grieve, to get closure, and worst of all—believing that your father was indifferent, even if he wasn’t—that was a lot to chew on. I hid around the corner of the porch in earshot as Wendy came outside.

  “Jake, are you alright?” she asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, I guess so,” he said.

  “Tommy and you seem to have some tension there. It was bound to happen,” she said.

  “How do you figure that? You just met me hours ago.”

  “It’s only natural. Your kids grow up. You and your wife become empty nesters. You’re not sure what your roles are anymore, you’re not as fond of living with each other as you were in your twenties, and your collective goal of raising your kids is essentially over. You’re living with a stranger, and you’re not sure you have to continue. Stop me if I’m wrong here,” she said.

  “You’re not wrong. How do you know all this?” asked Jake.

  “Because the same thing happened to me and my husband,” she said.

  “What did you do?” he asked.

  “We divorced. We had kids pretty young. Twin daughters I’m not sure we had much more in common than the girls anyway. When they moved out and went to college out West, Mike and I went our separate ways, and I took back my maiden name, Yubashiri. I really threw myself into my work and haven’t really dated much. But I think that my story is the same as a lot of people’s, including maybe yours.”

  “Minus the part about your husband getting bombed while talking to you on the phone during World War III, and your son guilting you into believing that you hadn’t done enough to look for him. Her. Whatever. We were trying to make it work. But I think we both knew it was doomed, and we dreaded admitting it to ourselves or the boys, so we just walked around in denial. When the crisis came, we both still looked for each other first. But now she’s gone. And I’m not sure how I feel about it. And I sure as hell can’t talk to my sons about it. I appreciate you listening.”

  The next part was unexpected. Wendy leaned over and kissed Jake on the cheek. Jake stiffened, almost looking like he was in a panic. She laughed.

  “You saved my life. You saved the lives of most of the people on that bus, it sounds like. Don’t forget to save your own, Jake Fisher. Even in times like these, you deserve that much. Jake’s mouth opened, slack-jawed. He couldn’t seem to muster a reply. Wendy brushed his face with her hand and walked back inside. Jake put his head in his hands and gritted his teeth silently. I moved awkwardly back to try and not be seen and ended up creaking on a floorboard. Jake looked up.

  “How long you been there, Eddie?” he asked.

  “The whole time,” I admitted.

  “You rotten little spy,” he said.

  “She’s quite a woman,” I said.

  “Yeah, dammit. She does in fact seem to be that.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Jake,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Well, for one, you’re good at it. Being hard on yourself, I mean. I’ve watched you this week get beaten on by several different gang members and threatened by ultra-Christian power thieves and orange mutated things and none of them came anywhere near the beating you give yourself.” Jake just frowned and shook his head. “For two, you seem to be getting plenty of help from your son, who has obviously picked up some of his father’s aggressive habits.” He half-smiled, half-scowled this time. I was making progress. “For three, you’re about to go get another son, who’s younger,” I continued. His eyes rolled.

  “And for four, we need you,” I said.

  “What?”

  “We need you. All of us on that bus need you. You’re the rock. You have the vision, you have the ganas, you have the cojones. We have ridden through the streets of one city and found emptiness and devastation. We’ve ridden through the streets of another and found normalcy. And you just keep plugging away. Every one of us is just a step from losing it.”

  “Eddie,” he interrupted, waving his hand.

  “I’m serious. Nobody knows what to expect. Like nobody in the whole world. Our world has changed completely. Most of us don’t even know who’s alive and who isn’t, what we have and what we don’t. We’re sitting on a bus chatting it up like it’s a road trip, but this whole fucking thing is insane. And you are the one thing that keeps us from losing it completely.”

  “Eddie, I don’t know any more than you do,” he said.

  “But you do. You know how to be focused. To complete your mission. To ignore distractions and to stay on task. Even if somebody is bitching about having to go on this trip with you, what else would they have anyway? Where would they go? People follow leaders. You are a leader, and you’re the one we chose. I’d take you over Wes Kent ten days out of ten.”

  Jake smiled, nodded and glanced at the ground.

  “Well at least you didn’t place any more pressure on me by hanging everyone’s hopes squarely on my actions or decision-making,” he said smiling. I chuckled.

  “Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best move. But you seem to be motivated by guilt pretty easily, so I thought I’d throw my hat in,” I said.

  “Nice. So my current insurmountable amount of guilt wasn’t enough. You had to put your little pink icing on the top to garnish it. Thanks. Thanks a bunch.” I smiled at the pink reference.

  “Look, hombre. All of this shit is tough enough. You’re gonna have to work through your issues with your family. I’ll defend you as a person, but that is work you’ll need to do. But you shouldn’t feel guilty about finding a beautiful woman attractive. Even liking her a little.”

  “You’re not attracted to her,” he replied.

  “No, but I have a decent excuse for that,” I added.

  “Is it any easier being a homo?” he asked. I laughed out loud. It felt good to laugh freely. I patted him on the shoulder, and we turned to walk back to the others.

  “Nope. Just as tough. Maybe tougher,” I said.

  “Gracias, compadre. I appreciate the pep talk. It isn’t wasted on me.”

  I knew that was true.

  When we walked in, Maureen and Al were taking pictures with the owner. Hardcore liberals to the end, they wanted anything to do with someone who had taken a stand against our current president—who, in a way, had led us to the modern-day apocalypse we were currently experiencing. Not that the people of Lexington, Virginia would know it by their circumstances. They lacked very little here, and even the electricity seemed to be stable. Sudde
nly everyone’s phones were working. Some of us who had friends in places far away from target areas actually were able to trade texts with loved ones. Folks in Montana, Arizona, and Utah had all touched base with someone from our group. Most had similar circumstances to Lexington. They could not find much news, nor could they contact anyone near a major city like Los Angeles, Houston, Chicago, or Denver. Most of them found portions of the country operating as normal, but out of touch with loved ones in “hot zones”—areas of large metropolitan populations, or as in the case with Denver, cities near strategic zones like the home of NORAD—the North American Aerospace Defense Command—which had bases in Colorado and El Paso, Texas.

  Jake’s eldest son, Tommy, was on the phone with his younger brother, Vinny, as we approached the table.

  “Yeah, dude. We’re leaving in just a few minutes. We should be there in about an hour and half. Can you get packed by then? Yeah. Yeah, pack heavy. No idea what we’re gonna find. Yes, I’ll talk to him about looking for mom. See you in an hour or so, little bro,” said Tommy.

  “That was Vinny,” Jake asked. “Is he alright?”

  “He’s fine. He’s packing up, waiting for us. Have we paid the bill yet?”

  “Yes,” Jake said. “Wendy sprung for all of it.”

  “Kind of her. A little expensive though, no?” asked Tommy.

  “She makes a very nice government salary. Has a nice nest egg, too, it seems. I wanted to push on, but everyone wanted to do a big dinner, celebrate a little bit. It seemed like a celebratory time,” said Jake.

  “Then why do you look like such a sad sack?” asked Tommy.

  Jake sighed and slumped a little. “I don’t like fighting with you, son. And I swear to you that after we get your brother, we’ll make plans to try and find your mom. Okay?”

  Tommy stiffened a little. He nodded and shook his father’s hand. “Don’t flirt with that Asian woman, though. Alright?”