I just wanted to tell you, sir, that you’re a good man. A good man to adopt a child like that, misguided strangers would sometimes say.
She’s mine, her father would reply. He’d always been calm and polite.
Of course she is.
She’s mine genetically.
Saskia remembered how embarrassed and confused those people had been. Sometimes they’d even been defensive, as if her father had played a trick on them. But he’d always kept his cool. If he’d been annoyed and disgusted—and Saskia was sure he had—he’d never showed it, at least in front of her.
Was her mother as tactful when it came to questions about Ralph? Saskia doubted it. Unlike her father, her mother didn’t suffer fools. She probably told them to book a ticket back to whatever antebellum plantation they’d come from. Better yet, take a mule. Then they could bond with another jackass.
Saskia smiled. Sometimes thinking about her mother made her furious. Other times it made her nostalgic for the stability she’d once had in Arizona, before the affair. She remembered all the good times she’d had with her parents, all those happily regular moments she’d taken for granted.
But inevitably, she also remembered how it had all gone wrong, and her nostalgia felt like a lie.
When her father left, Saskia tossed her cell phone onto the couch. It lay there, forgotten, until Lila called. As soon as Lila said, “Hey,” Saskia knew something else was up. Her friend’s voice sounded different, brittle.
“What’s going on?”
“Something bad happened,” Lila replied.
“What?”
“Marlene found out.”
“No . . .”
“Yes.”
“Christ! What happened?”
Lila exhaled audibly. “It started when I got to the library this morning. I knew something wasn’t right. Marlene and everyone in my department were in the Collection room. Even Rich was there, and he’s always up front.
“I heard Marlene call my name. When I walked in, she looked like a bomb about to detonate. I mean, she was red. The other people—they seemed upset, too, except Rich. He looked at me and put his finger to his lips, like to warn me.
“Then Marlene said, ‘I used to suspect someone was stealing from our holdings. Now I know.’ All these terrible thoughts started rushing through my head—how I was gonna get fired, and lose my scholarship, and have a criminal record. And my mother—she was gonna have a nervous breakdown. ’Cause I’m supposed to be the good one, the responsible one . . .
“Marlene was staring at me. Staring me down. I was on the verge of admitting everything. But then Rich stood up. Sask, he told them he did it.”
“What?!”
“He took the fall.”
“Oh my god . . .” Saskia said.
“He told this story—this whopper of a lie. Maybe he’d planned it, or maybe he made it up on the spot; I don’t know. He said he needed money. He said he was planning on selling the daguerreotypes on eBay. Some bullshit like that. And Marlene bought it.”
“What did she do?”
“What do you think?” Lila retorted. “She went berserk! She started yelling about how she’d trusted him, how he should be ashamed of himself. She was like, ‘I treated you like family, and you betrayed me.’ It was like a scene from a movie—a bad movie.”
“Did she fire him?”
“No.”
“No?!”
“No—because then I told everyone the truth.”
“Oh, Lila.”
“Well, most of the truth. Not about Cornelius, or Cassie, or any of that. Just about how I’d been borrowing the daguerreotypes. I told them Rich was trying to take the fall—that he was being protective of me, but that he had nothing to do with it.”
“Wow,” was all Saskia could muster.
Lila started sniffling. “So I’m the one who got fired, Sask. Crap, I have no idea what I’m gonna do.”
Saskia could hear Lila choking up. She could picture her face: splotchy, wet with tears, crestfallen. She felt like throwing up.
“Marlene told me to leave immediately,” Lila continued, voice quavering. “She threatened to call the police.”
“You got out of there, right?”
“Yeah, I booked it out. I wanted to hug Rich—he looked like he was gonna cry. But I didn’t dare in front of Marlene.”
“I’m so sorry, Lila,” Saskia said. “This all started with me. It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t asked for Cornelius’s daguerreotype in the first place. What if I go to the library and talk to Marlene, admit that the whole thing was my fault? Tell her I put you in a terrible position, which is the truth?”
“No. You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing,” Lila said, “it wouldn’t help. Marlene knows I allowed you in—nothing you can say would change that.”
“What if I wrote her a letter?”
“Still wouldn’t work.”
“Okay, fine. But there must be something I can do to help,” Saskia said desperately.
“I don’t think so, Saskia. And listen, I don’t blame you for all this. Like my mother says, I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it.”
Saskia’s face burned with shame, regret, and remorse. She wanted so much to make things right, but it was too late, like Lila said. The damage was irreparable.
“Hey,” Saskia said. “Do you wanna come over? How about I make you dinner for once? You could sleep over . . . We’ll eat huge amounts of popcorn and binge-watch some dumb show . . .”
“I don’t know. Right now I just need to be alone—to process everything.”
“Okay, I understand. Lila?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re the bravest person I know.”
Lila snorted. “What are you talking about?”
“You saved Rich—you took the fall without thinking twice. And you’ve had my back more times than I can count. You’re just—fearless . . .”
“It’s okay, Saskia. You don’t have to flatter me.”
“I’m not. I’m telling you the truth. Because I don’t want you to doubt how special you are—not now, not ever.”
Lila was quiet for a while. Saskia waited a little nervously, her eyes moist. At length, Lila started to giggle. “So are you trying to say I’m a badass?” she asked.
“Uh . . . yeah. That’s exactly what I mean,” Saskia replied, cracking a smile. “And I have photographic evidence to prove it.”
Saskia
Cornelius was taking Saskia somewhere new. Though her curiosity was piqued, he wouldn’t let her guess their destination. So she tried to focus on the journey. They were in a part of Philadelphia she’d never seen—a cosmopolitan area of the city. Gleaming white marble buildings were the norm here. Elsewhere the streets were uneven and riddled with mudholes, but here they were smooth and paved. The pair strolled along a sidewalk made of handsome red brick, laid out diagonally. The bricks were wet, not from rain, but from a recent scrubbing. Fire hydrants were on many corners, and clearly utilized.
Here and there, Saskia noticed open areas filled with wildlife: birds, chipmunks, scampering squirrels, even a deer. These rural spaces, teeming with flora and fauna, felt like tranquil reprieves from the rest of the city. That must have been their intended purpose.
Eventually, Cornelius led her down a narrow street, which in turn led to a narrow alley. He stopped abruptly in front of a nondescript doorway. After fishing for a key in his vest pocket, he unlocked the door. It creaked as they entered. Saskia’s eyes struggled to adjust to the dark interior. Meanwhile, Cornelius began to light lamps—no doubt merchandise from his shop. As more corners of the space were illuminated, she could see that this was no ordinary place.
She walked around the vast room slowly, her fingers grazing all matter of
machines, gadgets, contraptions, and contrivances. She had to watch her step as she walked. If she’d thought his office at the lighting store was cluttered, this place was ten times worse. It had everything an inventor might want or need: tools and worktables, pipes and pegs, clamps and wires, bolts, screws, every conceivable form of hardware. A nook for woodworking, a corner for metalworking.
She noticed that many of the actual items from his patent papers, diagrams, and drawings were here. Some of these inventions were complete. Some were still in development. He showed her a chicken deboner, automatic baby burper, lightning strike forecaster, chin fat diminisher, no-hands teakettle, automated chimney sweeper, and carrier pigeon wallet. When Saskia giggled, he laughed, too—clearly well aware of how absurd many of his creations were.
“How much time do you spend here?” she asked.
“Every spare minute. Well, every spare minute that I’m not at the lighting store, making daguerreotypes, tending to my children, or doing Harriet’s bidding.”
“Harriet—your wife.”
He nodded.
“You never talk about her.”
“Do you want me to?”
Saskia felt her face flush.
“I took you here,” Cornelius said, “because it’s very important to me. It’s my refuge. I’ve never shown it to anyone else.”
Saskia felt honored. At the same time, she felt supremely uneasy. It wasn’t hard to see that she and Cornelius were getting closer, probably too close. She felt more and more like they were walking toward the edge of an inevitable cliff. Soon there would be only two options: backtrack or jump, hand in hand.
“Why?”
“Don’t you know?” he asked softly. “Because I trust you implicitly. Because you seem to understand me. Because from the first second I saw you, I’ve been fascinated.”
Saskia, suddenly light-headed, took a step back. “I don’t know if you should have said that.”
“I already did.”
“Careful. You could mess everything up.”
“I’d like to think we’re separate from everything—and everyone,” he replied.
“I don’t know about that.”
“Saskia, we don’t really know the shape of space and time. There’s no conclusive evidence, only theories. Maybe the linear version of time we learned—the steady running of a clock—is just an illusion. Maybe there are multiple versions of this life.”
“Like parallel universes?” she asked.
“Yes! It’s difficult to fathom, but we cannot rule out the possibility of many, many realities. Alternate versions of our lives coexisting but never overlapping and interacting.”
“You really think there are thousands of copies of both of us, living other lives?” she asked dubiously.
“Perhaps. And not just thousands, but billions, trillions, untold numbers. Infinite variations of us living every conceivable scenario.”
She shook her head. “And there’s also a possibility that this is the only life we’ve got, and I managed to slip back into the course of it.”
“That’s possible, too.”
“Or maybe all those versions of reality do overlap. And people could find out. Lives could change.”
“Or maybe they couldn’t.”
“Maybe this isn’t happening at all,” she whispered. “I still wonder . . .”
“I don’t,” he said firmly. “For all my tinkering and inventing, there is no way I could have created this. You’re far superior to anything I could have conceived of on my own.”
Saskia was reminded of what Lila had said about Cassie.
He took another step toward her, and this time she didn’t step back. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly. It was the best kiss she’d ever had. Perfect.
And yet, when it was over, guilt engulfed her like a tidal wave. Maybe Cornelius was right: maybe they were separate. Untouchable. But maybe they weren’t. At this very moment, he was cheating on his wife. And Saskia was the other woman.
“Saskia?” he asked.
She recognized the confusion and earnestness on his face; she knew she wore the same expression. And yet she also knew, somehow, that whatever their relationship was—and whatever it could be—there was one boundary she could not cross. Would not cross.
Why not a single guy?
If you’re fine with it . . .
“I’m not,” she said suddenly.
“You’re not what?”
“I’m not fine with it. With any of it. You have to think about your children.”
“But I . . .”
“Your children. They should be your priority, not me.”
“I never said . . .”
“This can’t work. I shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have brought me here. We’ve made so many mistakes. I should know.”
Cornelius grabbed her arm, but she snatched it back and stared at him with stony finality. Her heart seized. She knew what she had to do, but that didn’t make it any easier, any easier at all. She dashed toward the nondescript door, feeling like at any second her skin might burst open and reveal all the sharp edges and broken pieces underneath.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Saskia felt depressed and prickly when the doorbell rang. With a carton of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food in one hand and a spoon in the other, she also felt like a real-life stereotype. All she had to do now was cut her hair and spend too much on retail therapy, and she’d be a breakup poster child.
Expecting to see Lila, she wasn’t worried how she looked. So what if her best friend saw her wearing a chocolate-stained T-shirt and pajama bottoms at three in the afternoon? So what if she spontaneously started crying every five minutes? Lila would understand.
But when Saskia looked out the peephole and saw Adrienne standing there, she was taken aback. Adrienne had never even been to her house before.
“Just a second,” Saskia said from behind the door, frantically trying to smooth down her frizzed-out hair. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone except Lila. She wanted to crawl back into her bed and hide under the covers.
“It’s me, Adrienne,” Adrienne yelled back.
“I know,” Saskia said when she finally opened the door. She glanced around outside, half-thinking she’d see Sara Beth or Paige lurking in the bushes. But all she saw was Adrienne’s red bike parked on her front lawn. “You know how I knew it was you? When I looked out the peephole, all I could see were your shoulders.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Adrienne joked.
Despite her jovial tone, Saskia could see that Adrienne’s eyes were troubled. Secretly, she was glad. She didn’t think she could do lighthearted banter right now.
“Come on in,” she said, guiding Adrienne to the kitchen. “What’s up? Did I forget a Mercury Boys Club meeting or something?”
“No. At least I don’t think so. I just had some spare time and thought I’d say hey.”
“Oh. Cool. Do you want something to drink? Or a snack? I’d offer you ice cream,” Saskia said, shaking the carton, “but you’re a little late.”
Adrienne smiled sympathetically. “You just have to go for it sometimes.”
Saskia nodded, not sure if she wanted to open up to Adrienne about her last encounter with Cornelius. Rehashing the story would only make her more miserable. Yet before long she found herself telling Adrienne the tale, every last detail.
“Oh, man, that sucks,” Adrienne said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Saskia said stoically.
But it was a lie, and Adrienne knew it. “You’ll get over it soon. I know you will,” she replied, lying, too.
“You can tell the others if you want,” Saskia said. “I’m not looking forward to sharing the news.”
“Okay—I’ll let them know,” Adrienne replied.
“Hey, let’s talk about somet
hing else now, okay?” Saskia willed herself not to cry. “How are you?”
Adrienne wrinkled her nose, which seemed to Saskia to be sprinkled with more freckles than ever. “Well, unfortunately, the same as you. Crappy.”
“Oh my god, don’t tell me you broke up with Emery?”
“Oh no, it’s not that bad. But it’s close.”
“So what happened?”
“I’m still . . . what’s the word, when you go back and forth?”
“Waffling?”
“Yeah, I’m still waffling.”
“You still can’t decide between Emery and Ben?”
Adrienne shook her head. “And obviously I can’t tell anyone else in the club after what happened. I’m so sorry, Saskia. That’s the main reason I’m here. I want to apologize for getting you involved. I was so stupid. If I’d known you’d get punished, too, I never would have said anything.”
“I’m all right,” Saskia replied with a carefree wave of her hand. She sounded more benevolent than she felt. “What’s done is done.”
“So you forgive me?”
“Yeah, of course. There’s nothing to forgive.” Saskia stared at the floor. The dirty linoleum needed a good mopping. The thought depressed her even more. It was like the whole world was soiled and ugly. “Which way are you leaning?” she asked Adrienne.
“Between the boys? Are you sure you want to know? I don’t want to get you in trouble again.”
“This time there’s no evidence,” Saskia joked, but her voice had an edge.
Adrienne gathered her red hair into a bun, securing it with a lime-green elastic she took off her wrist. “Promise you won’t tell Paige?” she asked nervously.
Saskia kicked a crumb with the toe of her sock. “Uh . . . what am I, masochistic?”
Adrienne looked at her curiously.
“Of course I won’t tell Paige,” she clarified.
“Okay,” said Adrienne. “So the truth is, I think I might want . . . Benny.”
“Wow, really?”
“Yeah. But it’s, like, fifty-one to forty-nine percent, so it’s not like I’m definite or anything.”
Mercury Boys Page 29
