“She is such a sweet little girl,” Anna said. “She told me all about her preschool and her best friend Chrissy and her tap dancing class and the picture she drew of you killing an evil tree. I’m glad you put it up. It is a good one.” Patrick had a large corkboard on one wall with an ever-changing display of art by Addi, age 3, and Alex, age 6.
“Addi does love to talk,” Patrick said. “Thanks for listening to her.”
“She is so earnest,” Anna said. “It was adorable. She also told me all about Alex and how he protects her.”
“That was because of a trip to the lake earlier this summer. We were feeding the geese and a big one got aggressive. Alex jumped in front of her and chased it away.”“How chivalrous,” Anna said. “Addi and Alex look so much like you, but they have Drake’s eyes.”
“Our peas in a pod. Drake swears the splicer took more of my DNA than his, joking of course.”
“Where did you surrogate?”
“We used a farm near Palm Springs. The same surrogate for both. Such a nice woman. She grew up on BL and needed a way out. She used the money from the farm to enroll in school. Three pregnancies later she earned a degree in nursing. She works at an Enclave near Ojai, I think.” There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Patrick called.
“Dr. Cleager, this is Clara Thibodaux and her son Jackson.”
“Thank you Megan,” he said.
A youngish looking man with prematurely graying hair opened the door. He was escorting an older woman in a red wool pea coat and khaki slacks, her white hair a fluffy cloud around her head. He helped her into a chair in front of Patrick’s desk and sat in the one next to her.
“So nice to meet you Jackson, Clara,” Patrick said. “I’m Dr. Cleager, but you can call me Patrick. This is one of our interns, Anna Goddard. She is here to learn and observe, but if you like, she will leave the room.”
“She can stay,” Jackson said with a slight drawl. “Sorry to be speaking for my momma, but she has just been feeling so poorly lately.” He took his mother’s hand, which was trembling a little. “She just doesn’t talk much anymore.”
Patrick pulled Clara’s full Index up on his tablet. Anna pulled it up as well. Clara was 67 as of a month ago. She wasn’t terminal or under guardianship. It was mental illness. Clinical depression.
“Clara, I need to ask you some things before we can proceed. Can you shake your head yes or no for me?”
Clara nodded.
“Is it your desire to Peace Out?”
Clara nodded, Jackson rubbing her hand reassuringly.
“Clara, let me tell you what is going to happen over the next week,” Patrick said. “We will meet every day, right here in this room. In fact, we are going to meet this afternoon. We can talk about whatever you want to talk about or just sit quietly, though I will always have a few questions for you. At the end of the week, I will take you to a doctor who will help you Peace Out. It will be painless. You will go to sleep and you will not wake up again. Do you understand?”
Clara nodded.
“Why do you wish to Peace Out?”
Clara looked down and Jackson spoke. “My father passed away unexpectedly three years ago,” he said. “Momma loved him dearly and she wants to go be with him. Her psychiatrist has diagnosed her with clinical depression.”
Peace Out’s policy was to refer any depressed individuals to counseling, regardless of age. Most of them got through their depression, either through medicine or therapy. Only those given an ultimate diagnosis of clinical depression were permitted to Peace Out.
“Thanks, Jackson,” Patrick said, tapping on his tablet. “Megan should be waiting for you outside the door and she will help Clara get settled.”
“I’ll be staying with Momma for the week,” Jackson said. “I’ve taken off work so I can be with her throughout this process.” He put his arm around his mother.
“Certainly,” Patrick said, “Just let Megan know and she will find you adjoining rooms.”
There was a soft knock on the door and Megan poked her head inside. “Mr. and Mrs. Thibodaux?” she asked. “Please come with me.” She shut the door behind them.
“What did you think about that intake?” Patrick asked.
“I thought Jackson was particularly solicitous of his mother,” Anna said. “Why?”
“What else?” Patrick said.
“He seemed like a very nice young man, very concerned about his mother’s welfare. I thought it was sweet that he didn’t want to leave her alone.”
“Think, Anna.”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at. Was something wrong?”
“Facilitation Tip #165. When someone wants to stay with an applicant for the full week, look for monkey business.”
“Really?” Anna asked. “Why? I would think most applicants would be happy to have someone with them.”
“Someone who speaks for them? Someone who maintains physical contact throughout the entire meeting?”
Anna paused. “As if to ensure that the right answers are given?”
Patrick raised his eyebrows.
She thought some more. “Clara kept her eyes downcast,” Anna said. “She didn’t look at us once.”
“Yes,” Patrick said. “I believe we may have a case of coercion. I could be wrong, but we’ll find out this afternoon.” He pulled up Clara’s Index. “Clara’s husband was an executive at Coke for over a decade. He died on the job. Heart attack. Left her in a very good position. She could buy into the Manhattan Beach Enclave if she wanted. After her husband passed, Clara moved here to live with Jackson. He’s her only son.”
Patrick pulled up Jackson’s Index. “Our friend Jackson seems to have had trouble getting his life together. Three colleges and eight years for a degree in business. Blew through his trust fund. Total slasher. Freelance everything. Waiter, graphic designer, stand up comedian, screenwriter. He gives guitar lessons. Dreams of being a movie producer.”
“Sounds like someone who could use Momma’s bank account.”
“Considering that Clara’s move to LA took Jackson from a shared bedroom in an apartment near McArthur Park to a three bedroom condo in Santa Monica, I would say so.”
“So how will we know if this is coercion or not for sure?”
“You’ll see,” Patrick said.
Megan knocked and opened the door. “Dr. Cleager, your next appointment is here. This is Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”
“Come on in,” he said warmly. “You can call me Patrick.”
“For our first Facilitation session, I will need to see Mrs. Thibodaux alone,” Patrick said.
“Oh, we’d rather not do that,” Jackson said. “Momma gets upset when I’m not around, right Momma?”
Clara nodded.
“I’m sorry, Jackson,” Patrick said, “but it is standard procedure. Mrs. Thibodaux won’t be allowed to Peace Out without a few private Facilitation sessions even if all we do is sit in silence.”
Jackson blinked. “Well, I guess if it is required,” he said. “Though it’s gonna be rather boring for y’all. Momma, I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.” He squeezed her shoulder and left.
“Mrs. Thibodaux, may I call you Clara?” Patrick asked.
She nodded.
“That is such a beautiful name,” he said. “I haven’t met anyone with it for a long time. How did your parents choose it?”
Clara looked at the door. Then she looked back at Patrick. “I was named after Clara Barton,” she said softly.
Anna had no idea who that was and surreptitiously typed the name into her tablet.
“Founder of the Red Cross,” Patrick said, nodding. “I volunteered with them in high school.”
“So did I,” Clara said.
“How wonderful,” Patrick said. He paused and gave her a knowing look. “Now that drawl you have is a little more South Carolina than Georgia to my ears.”
Clara smiled.
“Did you spend some time in South Carolina?”
/> “That’s where I grew up.”
“When did you move to Atlanta?”
“High school,” she said.
“Do you still have family in the South?”
“No,” Clara said, looking down. “Jackson’s all I have left.”
“I’m so sorry,” Patrick said. He paused. “Now Clara, I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly. Is it your desire to Peace Out?”
Clara glanced at the door. She nodded.
“Clara,” Patrick said. “I want you to know that you are safe here. I’m going to ask you again. Do you wish to Peace Out?”
Clara stared down at her lap. She nodded again.
“Listen to me, Clara. Peacing Out is not something that should be done lightly. It is not something you should do to please anyone else. So I am going to ask you one more time. Do you, Clara? Do you want to Peace Out?”
Clara started to cry.
Anna shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“If you are concerned about what Jackson might say or do if you change your mind,” Patrick said, “let me reassure you. If you wish, you never have to see him again. I can help you find an Enclave. Maybe near Atlanta if you like. Ones with gates and front desks. Approved visitor lists.”
Clara took a handkerchief out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “He won’t get into trouble, will he?” she asked.
“That is entirely up to you,” he said.
“He never hurt me,” she said.
“Well then, it doesn’t sound like Jackson will get into any trouble,” Patrick said.
“He just gets so angry. The whole world against him.”
“He needed money, didn’t he?” Patrick asked, his face sympathetic.
“For his movie,” Clara said. “I gave it all to him. All that I could.”
“But he needed more,” Patrick said.
Clara nodded.
“Your husband put the rest of your money in a trust,” Patrick said.
Clara nodded again.
“So you couldn’t give him what he wanted.”
She shook her head.
Anna watched as something broke inside Clara. The words poured out.
“Jackson says I want him to fail, that I enjoy watching him struggle. That I’m stifling him. He says I don’t love him, but I do. I love him so much. My only son.” She started crying again.
“He says Jackson Senior is waiting for me in heaven. That we can be together again. I do want that,” Clara said. “I do. It must be better than this.”
Anna tried to keep her face impassive. She could not believe the gentle young man outside the door was the same one bullying his mother into Peacing Out.
“Clara, can you tell me about your diagnosis of clinical depression?”
“Jackson took me to a psychiatrist. A friend of his from college. I talked with him three times a week for a month. Then I got the diagnosis. So here I am.”
“Clara, I do not believe you are clinically depressed,” Patrick said. “As your Facilitator, I will not confirm that diagnosis.”
“But Jackson,” Clara said hesitantly.
“I’ve run your Index against the Enclaves near Atlanta. Marietta Enclave is your best match. Do any of these names sound familiar to you? Fiona Atkins? Jane Enright? Mirabelle Finch?”
Clara brightened. “I went to college with Fiona and Jane. We were sorority sisters. They were dear friends once. Mirabelle sounds familiar.”
“She went to junior high with you in Charleston,” Patrick said. “They all live in Marietta Enclave. Would you like to visit?”
Clara looked at the door once more. “What about Jackson?” she asked.
“If you want, I can have security remove him from our Center.”
Clara bit her lip. “Will they hurt him?”
“Not if he goes peacefully,” Patrick said.
“I don’t want them to hurt him.”
“They will only use the amount of force necessary. I promise.”
Clara slowly folded her handkerchief into a neat square.
“Would you like me to call them?” Patrick asked.
Clara didn’t answer at first.
Let him! Anna screamed internally. Your son is trying to kill you!
Clara finally spoke. “I do think that would be best.”
Patrick picked up the phone and spoke briefly with security, ordering them to approach respectfully and use no force. Patrick ended the call.
“You can spend the night here and in the morning you’ll be on a flight to Atlanta. Megan can fly with you. Would you like that?”
Before Clara could answer, the door burst open. “What is going on?” Jackson demanded. “Those security guards just told me I need to leave! Momma? What are you doing?”
Clara shrank back into her chair.
“Your mother has decided to join an Enclave,” Patrick said calmly.
Jackson’s face purpled. “What do you think you are doing here? How dare you try to kidnap my mother? She is a sick woman. We’re leaving, Momma.” He grabbed Clara’s hand and dragged her toward the door. Two men in black uniforms blocked his way.
“Please let your mother go,” Patrick said. “It’s over.”
“Like hell,” Jackson said. He took a swing at one of the guards. The guard blocked the punch and twisted Jackson’s arm up behind his back. Jackson lost hold of his mother and Clara backed away, sobbing hysterically. Patrick came out from behind his desk and helped Clara into his chair. He knelt beside her, talking to her in soothing tones. Jackson was screaming incoherently, fighting the guards, kicking at them. They wrestled him to the ground at Anna’s feet. His eyes bored into hers and Anna recoiled. After they put plastic restraints on his wrists, Jackson stopped struggling. They helped him up.
“I’m suing you all,” Jackson said calmly as they marched him out of Patrick’s office. He looked over his shoulder. “Don’t worry Momma, I’ll be back for you.”
Anna slowly unclenched her fists and looked down at her hands. Blood oozed from her palms.
Anna paced up and down the conference room floor. She and Scott were the only ones there. They were staying late since dinner with the Cleagers wasn’t until seven.
“It was crazy, Scott. Totally crazy,” Anna said. She paced back and forth.
“It’s OK,” Scott said. He tried to put his arms around her.
Anna stepped back. “Not now,” she said.
Scott dropped his arms.
“The guy just snapped.” She continued pacing. “He was a different person. The way he looked at me.” She shook her head. “Like he would have killed me, right then and there. Nobody has ever looked at me like that before.” Anna felt tears coming and took a few deep breaths to stop them. She looked away.
Scott approached slowly. This time she let him hold her close. He could feel her tears dampen his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Scott said.
“I feel like such a baby.” Anna got herself back under control. “Can we talk about something else?”
“I could tell you about my day,” Scott suggested.
Anna nodded.
“Very boring. Just helping Bertha confirm medical diagnoses. Doing some routine labs on her research. That’s all I’m good for right now. Did you know Peacing people Out is only a small part of Bertha’s job? Most of the doctors are here for the research. They can work on whatever they want when they’re not at the body factory.”
“The body factory?”
“Kind of cold, but that’s what she calls it. I mean, there’s really only one outcome for her patients. Though I guess this one time, she found a hidden needle mark on a guy in a coma. It was an attempted murder gone wrong. With the man’s directive, Peace Out would have finished the job if she hadn’t found the mark. They called the police and she had to testify in the trial. The guy made a full recovery. After that, Peace Out started doing full body scans of everyone under directive.�
� Scott checked his watch. “We should cancel this dinner tonight,” he said. “Patrick would understand.”
“No,” Anna said firmly. “We have to go. We’re going.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. We need to pick up a bottle of wine on the way.”
MARTY AND JENNY
Everyone talks about these charitable Enclaves. How they’ll take care of you until you die of natural causes. Change your diapers. Spoon feed you. No thanks. It’s not for me. Jesus this and God that in exchange for a place to stay and three squares a day? Kumbaya while some teenager with spiky hair and a puka shell necklace plays the guitar with his eyes closed? Just Peace me Out now. Seriously. Peace me Out now.
Brody James, Age 66, Peace Out Chicago Intake Evaluation, 10/3/2038.
Marty and Jenny fell into a routine. She came over with dinner on Wednesday nights and stayed the evening. Her hours were fulfilled in a month. Marty half wondered if she would stop coming. But she didn’t. He taught her how to play poker and they used jellybeans as chips. Jenny got pretty good at it. She shared her boy troubles. Her excitement over being admitted to a dozen great colleges. Her relief to learn that her father did have a college fund for her and she could go to Yale with minimal loans. Now the problem was her major. She really had no idea what to study. She loved the arts and music, but her parents were so practical. Their money wasn’t going to pay for a degree in Theatre.
Marty did a lot of listening. He figured Jenny just needed someone to talk to, someone without an agenda for her future.
One night Jenny brought over some brochures. “Marty,” she said. “Let’s talk about an Enclave.”
“No thanks,” he said.
“I’m leaving for college soon,” she said. “I’m worried about you.”
“I was just fine before you started visiting. I’ll be just fine after you go.”
“Come on, Marty,” she said. “Let’s just look at them.”
“I looked after Diana Peaced Out. Did you know there are way more women in Enclaves than men? We are a sought after commodity, you know. Do you think I want a bunch of harridans hounding me for the rest of my life? No thanks.”
Peace Out (The Futures Trilogy Book 1) Page 11
