Hiding Places

by Shannon Heuston

  As I descended the stairs, I heard someone behind me. “Hey! Wait up!”

  I whirled around. Will was hurrying after me. “Maggie, right?” he asked, falling into step with me. “Are you going to the market? I’m headed there too.”

  I nodded, turning away, hoping he got the hint.

  “Listen,” he said, “I didn’t mean to come off like a dick before. As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I have no frigging filter.”

  I wasn’t buying his half-assed apology. I saw the way he’d been mocking me with Ariana.

  “Hey,” he said, “look at me. I’m trying to apologize! I’m sorry. I’m not a dick once you get to know me. I swear.”

  “Okay,” I relented, because it seemed like the easiest way to get him to go away. “Apology accepted.”

  We parted ways once we entered the market. I headed for the cooler. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes, though, when he joined me again after I paid for my soda. “I’m new on campus,” he confided. “I just got here yesterday. I’m trying to make friends. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with anyone.”

  For Chrissakes. I shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about getting off on the wrong foot with me,” I told him.

  “And why is that?” he inquired.

  “I’m not exactly Ms. Popularity,” I admitted.

  “I find that hard to believe,” he said with a charming grin. “And anyway, that’s perfect. You need friends. I need friends. We’re a match!”

  Stop being such a bitch, he said he was sorry. “Right,” I said, forcing a smile in return.

  Ursula stared when we walked in together, but quickly dropped her gaze. I expected Will to resume his seat beside the giggling Ariana, but to my surprise he collapsed in the ugly green pleather chair beside me.

  Ariana’s jaw dropped. She looked me up and down, eyes narrowing.

  Her reaction thrilled me. Ariana reminded me of the mean girls in my past, the ones who mocked my shabby clothes and social awkwardness. It felt good to see her get a taste of her own medicine.

  I glanced up at Ursula, recoiling to find the older woman studying me. It was impossible to know what thoughts went on behind that expressionless exterior. Was she disturbed Will and I were sitting together? She had to know it meant nothing.

  I pulled the corners of my mouth up in a weak smile, meant to be reassuring. Will was charming and cute, but not my type. Outgoing popular men had never been my type.

  I didn’t even have a type.

  We spent the rest of the training session discussing the various ways illegals entered the country. “Contrary to popular belief, most illegals don’t get here by swimming the Rio Grande,” Dr. Reiter explained. “Most entered this country legally, and overstayed their visa.”

  “They’re still criminals, no matter how they got in,” Will chimed in. “They should be treated like any other criminal. They’re lucky not to be in jail.”

  Ursula gifted him with one of her chilly smiles. “We need to understand where they are coming from,” she said. “Many have families here legally, or they’re in a bad situation, facing death or worse in their home country.”

  “Then they should have applied for asylum,” Will said.

  “Everyone has strong feelings about illegal immigration,” Dr. Reiter pointed out. “That’s why the issue has divided our country. This program is the government’s attempt to bridge the gap between both sides. It’s a compromise. We’re allowing some immigrants to stay, as long as they make an effort to adopt the ideals of our country.”

  She looked around the room. “It is of the utmost importance that everyone in the room commit to this mission,” she declared. “These immigrants must reflect American ideals by the time this program is over, or they cannot stay here.”

  Will waved his hand in the air, then spoke without waiting to be called on. “Who gets to decide whether or not they can stay?”

  Another chilly smile. “Why, we do,” Ursula said. “At the end, we will discuss how well each candidate adapted. Anyone that fails will get deported.”

  A sick feeling washed over me. All the other counselors looked elated to be given such power. My stomach dropped. I didn’t want that kind of responsibility. I didn’t want to decide whether some desperate soul got to remain here.

  By the end of the training session, I’d decided this wasn’t for me. I was already rehearsing the words I’d say when I quit. I was scared Ursula would be angry, or think I was letting her down.

  Once again, I lingered as everyone else raced out of the room, while Ursula packed her materials in her ever-present satchel. Yet in a repeat of earlier, she charged out of the room without even looking at me. I felt defeated as I started back to my room.

  “Mags! Yoo-hoo! Hey, Maggie?”

  I halted, arranging my features into a welcoming smile before turning around to face Will, loping after me, his wavy brown hair mussed in a fetching way that seemed deliberate.

  “Do you want to grab a bite together?” he asked. “I don’t know much about Baylor. I could really use a guide.”

  “What about Ariana?” I suggested, unable to stop myself.

  Will made a face. “Give me a break, when I walked in the room this morning, she was the only person there,” he said. “I’m a friendly guy, what can I say?”

  “Dr. Reiter led me to believe she was hand-picking all the counselors,” I said. “I can’t quite see how she fits in.”

  “Neither can I,” Will agreed. “Anyway. Lunch?”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse, then I remembered how Ursula was always urging me to take some space, take a break, telling me it would be good for our relationship. And it would be nice to sit down and have lunch with someone in a public place, instead of hiding out at the Reiter’s house.

  “Sure,” I agreed. “Just let me text Dr. Reiter. I work as a companion for her father. I’ll let her know I’m going to be late. She doesn’t care what time I go over, as long as I stay for a few hours.”

  “Wow, you actually work for that creep?”

  We were turning off campus onto the tree lined street that led into the village of Baylor. “Yes,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. Creep? That wasn’t nice. “For her father, mainly. He’s a sweet old man. Basically, I just keep him company.”

  “She’s creepy,” Will repeated, in case I didn’t hear him the first time.

  I bristled. “Not really. She’s nice, once you get to know her. She’s a very devoted daughter.”

  Will shook his head. “She reminds me of a character from one of those movies, you know, the ones based on that old TV show,” he said. “The Addams Family.”

  “I’ve never heard of those movies,” I lied, desperate to change the subject.

  Conversation lagged. I didn’t feel like making the effort. Will was rude and kind of a jerk. My first impression of him was correct.

  “A lot of these houses look old,” Will said, breaking the silence. “Great architecture. I’m surprised to see that this far upstate, in such a small town.”

  “It’s always been a college town,” I explained. I knew plenty about this topic from Ursula’s endless lectures. She loved Baylor more than she realized. “A lot of these big old houses were owned by professors and the families that built the college. Now they’re either owned by frats and sororities, or they’ve been chopped up into apartments. Dr. Reiter’s house was a way station for the underground railroad,” I revealed. “It’s one of the few mansions still intact.”

  “She lives alone in a mansion with just her father?” Will asked, incredulous. “She really is a character straight out of Dickens.”

  I decided I liked that description better. Stop being so protective, or people will guess. We had reached the main square.

  “Here we are,” I said, with a sweep of my arm. “We have three pizza parlors, a bagel shop that sells amazing cookies, and the Village Diner, your average greasy spoon. They do have great pancakes, though. And a sub shop. Ta
ke your pick.”

  “The Diner,” Will said, without hesitation. “I had pizza delivered to my room last night. It wasn’t very good. I’m from Buffalo. I’m used to real Italian pizza. The pizza I had last night tasted like it was made with American cheese.”

  I laughed. “You got it from Roberto’s,” I guessed. “Don’t be fooled by the name, they have the worst pizza I’ve ever eaten. I don’t understand how an Italian restaurant can screw up pizza so badly and stay open. Be warned, their pizza rolls are worse. They didn’t get the memo that pizza rolls are supposed to contain cheese.”

  We were now standing in front of the diner, a small establishment that boasted three booths along the wall and a row of stools upholstered in shiny red vinyl against a long counter. Will eyed it. “This place doesn’t look very clean,” he whispered.

  I yanked the door open. “Trust me, it’s fine,” I assured him. “Greasy, but I find that with the food up here. This is probably the best place to eat within easy walking distance of campus. If you have a car, there’s a Chinese restaurant a few miles away in the Target Plaza. I use the descriptive “Chinese” loosely. Their idea of General Tso’s chicken is nuggets in soy sauce, and their lo mein is spaghetti."

  “Lovely,” Will said.

  Once seated in a booth, I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich with fries and Will ordered steak and cheese on a hoagie. Facing him across the table, I felt tongue tied again. This was different from being with Ursula. I never worried about what to say to her. We often sat together in companionable silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

  “Why’d you pick Baylor?” I asked.

  “I used to go camping in the Saranac area a lot when I was a kid,” he responded, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. Was he nervous too? “I loved it. Always wanted to live up here, if I got the chance. So, I figured, why not go to grad school here? Particularly since Baylor offered a great financial aid package. For grad school that’s hard to come by.” He paused. “I’ve been here just over twenty-four hours and, I don’t know. I kind of can’t explain how I feel. It’s not like I thought it would be, the atmosphere is kind of…” he screwed up his face in thought, “oppressive.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good description of it,” I said. “I was so homesick my first semester. It wasn’t just being away from home for the first time, it was that everything is different up here. This town is frozen in time. Girls marry their high school sweethearts right after graduation and have two or three kids before they’re even out of their teens. It’s surreal.”

  “It’s like the town is stuck in 1955,” Will offered.

  I nodded excitedly. “That’s just what (Ursula) everyone says. 1955. Exactly.”

  We had a nice time, but I worried what Ursula was thinking. I texted to let her know I was having lunch with one of the counselors. She probably guessed it was Will. What would I say if she asked?

  She always said it was good for me to socialize with peers my own age, but I knew she didn’t mean it.

  Will and I could be friends, right? That was what coworkers did. They made friends with each other. I wasn’t cheating on Ursula by going to lunch with him. It was perfectly fine. Ursula had no cause to complain. Not that she would.

  We walked back along Professor’s Row, the street where Ursula lived. All the mansions were in states of disrepair. One had a fire escape twisting up its side, marring its once grand façade. Another had a sheet hanging from a balcony with Greek letters painted on it.

  “What fraternity?” Will asked, pointing.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t pay attention.”

  I stopped in front of the Reiter house. Ursula’s SUV was parked in the driveway. She was home.

  “This is Dr. Reiter’s house, so this is my stop,” I explained. I pointed down the road. “It’s another mile to campus, just a straight shot down the street. I wish I could walk you back all the way, but I’m already late.”

  “I’d love to see inside,” Will said.

  “I don’t blame you, it’s pretty cool. But Dr. Reiter is very private. I’ll ask her if it’s okay and get back to you.”

  I turned to leave.

  “How about dinner?” Will said, his words coming in a rush. “I don’t have any groceries or anything. I don’t even have a refrigerator. I need your guidance.” He laughed nervously, rubbing his chin.

  I hesitated, staring up at the blank windows of the house. Was that a shadow in Ursula’s bedroom window, jerking back out of sight? I felt like I was being watched. Maybe it was Helmut. Will was probably freaking him out.

  I should have refused to have lunch with him.

  I had originally planned to spend the night with Ursula. Will’s invitation threw more than one monkey wrench into my plans. I should have rebuffed his attempts at friendship. Now he would notice if I didn’t spend the night on campus. I should have thought of all this before. What was I thinking?

  Will’s face was heartbreakingly hopeful, waiting for my answer.

  “Sure,” I said, finally.

  What else could I say?

  After entering the house, I paused in the foyer to peer out the window. Will was still standing outside, staring after me. I waited, wondering if he felt my eyes on him. He shook his head, grinning, and sauntered off.

  I had no idea how to interpret his behavior. I wouldn’t make a good psychologist.

  Ursula was in her office, peering at her laptop, her glasses slipping down her long nose. She glanced up when I entered.

  “How was lunch?” she asked.

  Her tone was casual, but I felt defensive. “Good,” I squeaked.

  “That’s nice.” Her attention was already back on her computer screen. She didn’t care. It was silly to think she was watching me from the window. “It’s great that you’re bonding, coming together as a team.”

  I gave a sigh of annoyance. This was maddening. Not only was Ursula not jealous over my lunch with Will, she was indifferent.

  “That’s good, because we’re going to dinner,” I announced, watching her reaction carefully. “Will doesn’t have groceries, or even a refrigerator, so…”

  “Excellent,” Ursula interrupted. “I’m going to make it an early night myself.”

  I turned away. Ursula had retreated behind her wall, morphing into the standoffish professor. I didn’t know how to break through. I had an inkling it would be harder this time than merely shedding my clothes.

  “I’m thinking of quitting the program,” I said, just so she’d pay attention to me.

  That got a reaction. Ursula’s eyes widened. “Why?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “It’s not for me. I don’t like the idea of forcing people to act a certain way. I don’t want to have control over someone else’s life. It’s too much responsibility.”

  “It’s only for six weeks,” Ursula argued. “Maggie, this is an obligation. You signed a contract. You can’t just quit, not with the candidates arriving on Sunday. That would really put me in a bind.” Her eyes were snapping with anger. She’d never been mad at me before.

  “Okay,” I relented. I wasn’t serious about quitting anyway. I just wanted her to stop ignoring me. “I’ll stay. But I don’t like it. I feel like this job is already coming between us. It’s not worth it.”

  Ursula’s slender fingers were poised over her computer keyboard to type, crisis adverted and already forgotten. “It’s only for six weeks,” she repeated. “In six weeks, everything will be back to normal.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ursula

  My composure held until I heard Maggie’s receding footsteps. Then I dropped my head into my hands.

  Following his experiments on obedience, Stanley Milgraum’s ethics were called into question. Many saw his subjects as victims, manipulated into displaying a dark side of human nature rarely acknowledged. Their involvement in the experiment wounded their self-esteem irreparably, as they had to confront what they were capable of head-on.

  Since its inception in
the conference room of Baylor University, the ethics of the program had presented a grave question. The candidates were actual human beings whom the government regarded as throwaways. An alarming similarity to the European Jews of World War II. No one cared what happened to them.

  Like the Jews, these illegal immigrants were being cast out and driven from country to country, welcome nowhere. Like the Jews, they were accused of bringing crime and degradation wherever they settled. Like the Jews, they were regarded as foreign and scary, with their different dress, their different religion, their different traditions, even their different language. Like the Jews, the government was intent on branding them criminals and expulsing them through whatever means necessary.

  I knew there were plenty of counter arguments against that perception. I found all of them faulty because of one underlying fact, they were being dehumanized. Desperate people with few choices were being driven into a corner and attacked.

  I stumbled upon a poll online. I usually try to avoid them, but this one managed to seep through my filter. The poll claimed that fifty percent of Americans surveyed were in favor of incarcerating illegal aliens in prison camps.

  Concentration Camps. Change one little word and all the Americans that claimed to be disgusted with the crimes of Nazi Germany were in favor of them. And they lacked the self-awareness to see it.

  This re-education program was the first step towards achieving that end, and I was a part of it, a cog in the machine. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t quite on the same level as a concentration camp. There would be no slave labor. The candidates were being housed in a wing of a Baylor University residence hall. The quarters may not be as comfortable as their own home, but they were miles beyond the freezing cold barracks of Auschwitz, and probably better than the hovels they’d end up in, if deported.

  They would have access to bathrooms, be provided with three square meals a day, and medical care through student health services. They would be treated no worse than the typical student, except they would be restricted to campus, unable to leave without an armed escort. They weren’t even allowed to walk into the village for a slice of pizza.