“Life isn’t always about what we want.”
“Except when you want to give things to the people in your businesses.”
His smile was flat and cold. “You’re too young to understand the way the world works, but one day you will.”
“Bob is the same age as you, and he understands it the same way I do. So does my mother, and Dr. North, and most of the medical profession in the country. You twist facts until they look like the ones you want them to be. You create the definition of normal that suits you best, but there’s no normal, RJ King. You can think you’re not a monster, but to me and to all the people like me, you’re the enemy. No, I won’t let you help me. And no, I don’t believe it’s guaranteed you’re going to beat us.”
King held up his hands. “Yes, this is what I suspected you would say. But I had to try.” He sighed and lowered his hands. “I do wish you well, Emmet. I hope your facility is able to stay solvent despite what I know about its projected trajectory. I hope your marriage to your friend is a happy one, and I hope I’m able to help you find happiness.”
I never, ever wanted RJ King to be a part of my happiness. “I don’t need you to give me anything, or any of my friends. And we will all be happy. We’ll beat you too.”
RJ King didn’t say anything, only shook his head as he turned away from me and walked across the park.
I didn’t tell the others about RJ King’s comments to me, not right away. I told Jeremey once we were alone in our apartment that night, lying on my bed with him, as he had his arms around me, being my sensory sack.
Jeremey was upset, but he kept calm as best he could. “He’s a terrible man. But you’re amazing for being able to keep your cool around him. I would have cried or run away, or maybe hit him.”
I hadn’t wanted to hit him, or run. But I did hate him more every time I thought about him. “Do you think he was bluffing, or do you think he knows something about the vote? Do you think he’s right, that we have no chance of winning?”
Jeremey sighed. “I have no idea. I want to think he’s bluffing, but there’s no way to tell, and in the end, does it matter? It’s not as if we’re going to stop. At the end of the day we have to push forward and hope for the best. We’re going to get people to the rally, and we’re going to get those representatives to vote.”
He was right, of course, and so I did my best to put it out of my mind. It wasn’t easy, though, and the next day I told the others, first Darren and David and then Kaya and Bob. Darren and David were both angry, especially David, and so were Kaya and Bob. Kaya got one of her funny looks, as if she wanted to throw things, and Bob started touching his face a lot, frowning at the floor. I asked them the same question I’d asked Jeremey. “Do you think he’s right? Do you think they will win?”
Kaya shook her head. “Absolutely not. The polls are against them. We still don’t know how the representatives will swing, but if their voters are telling them to vote for us, how do you think they will go? I feel good about our chances. Mostly I’m furious this jerk thought he could bully you. Was he trying to rattle you? Make you upset?”
I considered this. “No. He wanted me to know he wasn’t a monster.”
“Ah. Cleaning his conscience. Good for you for not letting him off the hook.” Kaya brushed her hands together. “I’ve never wanted anything more than how much I want to beat this man. Not only to win for our cause but to defeat this jerk. I hate his kind. I want to see him go down, and I want you to be the one who does it, Emmet.”
I was less interested in taking people down and more concerned about protecting The Roosevelt and our project, but I knew what she meant. It was what Darren had asked me about, the Super Emmet thing. I did want to be a hero. I wanted my Elwood Blues moment.
I only hoped my algorithm could hold, that it would be enough.
Finally, they set a date for the vote. It would be the last Friday in June, which meant now we knew how much time was left between now and then to get our work done. We scheduled our last events, our final rallies, and we organized a rally for the day of the vote at the statehouse, for people to go and talk to their representatives and to gather on the grounds outside and be seen for the cameras as the vote came in. Hopefully it would also be a victory party afterward.
We had contacts from groups outside of Iowa too, people who wanted to work with the foundation and model their fight on the one we’d begun in Iowa. They were waiting to see how well it worked with the legislature, but even if it didn’t, they said they wanted to use the model, and of course we told them yes.
One more big change came in the space between the announcement and the vote, one that was good but I wasn’t sure how I felt about it: Kaya got a new job. She gave her notice at Workiva because as of June 30 she’d be working full-time as the director of The Roosevelt Foundation.
“I’ll miss working with you so much.” She cried as she told me, pressing a wadded-up tissue to her eyes to catch the tears, but most of them ran down her face anyway. “I know I’ll still see you because you’ll volunteer with the foundation, but it won’t be the same as working at Workiva. But I want to help build what we’ve started, to protect it. I hope you understand.”
I did understand, and I thought she’d make a great director. But I would miss her too. I wished she could do both jobs. I tried to tell her all this, but I ended up rocking and hugging her and crying a little too.
I didn’t have a lot of time to be sad, though, because we were so busy getting ready for the lobby day. I was helping Darren with some of the online things, and so were Jeremey and David. People from all over the world wanted to know how the vote was going to go. We had become a movie everyone wanted to know the end of.
I just hoped it was a happy ending, not a tragedy.
Two weeks before the vote, I took a walk one night to my parents’ house. I had texted them to let them know I was coming over, so my dad was waiting on the front porch for me, hands in his pockets and smiling as I came down the sidewalk. “Good to see you, son.”
I signed hello, as I wasn’t feeling verbal.
He didn’t press me to talk as I went inside, and my mom didn’t either once she saw I didn’t want to speak. They let me sit in the kitchen and watch them work around me, making coffee and dinner and talking to each other, sometimes to me too but mostly letting me be quiet and by myself.
The house always felt different now, not the same as it had been when I’d grown up in it. I missed it sometimes, though I was glad to have my own place with Jeremey. Sometimes it was comforting to come back and remember what it was like to have this place be my home, to have my mom and dad busy around me when I was overwhelmed. Like right now.
They made me a snack and a cup of herbal tea, and we sat together on the deck, where we could watch trains as they went by. I rocked silently, then started to hum as I got ready to talk. They waited patiently for me to begin, not rushing me.
I’m scared, I signed at last.
My dad put down his cup of coffee. It’s natural to be scared, he signed.
I felt tears threatening, but I asked the octopus to please keep them back. For once he listened to me.
I don’t want to disappoint everyone.
My mom didn’t stop her tears, but she didn’t look sad. She looked complicated, but if I had to pick an emotion from her face, I would guess proud. You won’t disappoint anyone. We’re all so proud of you. No matter what happens, Emmet, we are all so proud of you.
I couldn’t stop my tears anymore either. I don’t want King to win. But I’m afraid he will.
My dad wasn’t crying, but his smile was sad. If he wins this time, you’ll fight and find a way to beat him next time. And we’ll help you. So will a lot of people. Remember, Emmet, no matter what it feels like, you aren’t facing this alone.
My octopus stroked my head as the tears fell down my cheeks. It’s going to hurt so much if we lose.
Now Dad was crying too, one tiny tear that caught on his nose. We’ll be with you, to help you heal,
if that happens.
We all cried together, for a while. And when I went home, I felt a lot better.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jeremey
Emmet pretended he wasn’t upset by my parents’ reaction to our engagement, but I knew it bothered him. It bothered me too. I supposed I should be glad they weren’t overtly fighting us on it, but I was angry they weren’t excited for us the way Emmet’s family was. I hated how they pursed their lips and looked away, as if we were an embarrassment or something awkward they had to endure. I wanted them to celebrate my happiness, not grin and bear it.
“It makes me so upset.” I said this to my sister when I Skyped with her after my meeting with our parents. My original goal had been to tell her about my engagement, but the call quickly became a bitch session, which I felt bad about but couldn’t stop. “He makes more money a year than Mom ever did before she retired, and he’s smarter than both of them put together. He got me Mai when he saw I needed something more to cope with my daily life, and arranging for her was no small feat. He single-handedly got the ball rolling for The Roosevelt Project, which is now a battle against the state legislature, and people all over the world are in contact with us, with him, wanting to know how he did it. That guy, Jan, wants to marry me. But all Mom and Dad can see about him is that he has autism, and they don’t like it.”
She leaned back in the couch she was sitting on, clearly worn out. “Look, you’ve known our parents are headcases for a long time now. Why you thought they were going to be different over this, I’m not sure.”
I stared at the keyboard. “I didn’t think they were going to be different. I…don’t know. I can’t not feel the way you do, is all.”
She made a quiet harrumph sound, and when I glanced at her face, she was smiling wanly. “I didn’t say I didn’t feel. I keep telling you. I moved away from them and rarely come home for a reason.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to move away. And I wish you were here. It would be nice to walk down the street to family I actually want to see.”
Jan laughed. “I’m not moving home, and even if I did, it absolutely wouldn’t be down the street, not anywhere close to them. However, you’re right. I need to come home more to see you. I know it’s not easy for you to come to me.”
“Maybe you can come for Lobby Day. We want to have a big crowd at the capitol.”
Jan raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to be in a big crowd at the capitol?”
I blushed, but nodded. “Yes. With the rest of the guys, and Mai. I’ll be okay because we’ll be in our Roosevelt Blues Brothers costumes and we’ll be on a stage with a rest area off to the side where I can go if I need a break. We have a permit to organize there and perform. It’s a rally. A local drag queen is going to come and pretend to be Shakira while we perform ‘Try Everything.’ It’s going to be fantastic.”
Jan smiled. “You’ve blossomed at The Roosevelt, you know? I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks. Me too.” I lifted my chin. “So will you come? Be proud of me in person?”
She laughed. “All right, I’ll see what I can do about time off. Text me the date. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll do my best.”
In the end, she was able to get the time off, several days off in fact, and she booked a hotel in Ames, though Emmet’s mom said she could stay at their place if she wanted. Darren’s parents were coming too, and they did take up Marietta’s offer of a place to stay. They came two days before the event to help us with final preparations, and Darren went over often to be with them, though sometimes they came to be at The Roosevelt too.
Emmet spent a great deal of time at his computer, either working on his algorithm programs or on the social networks Darren had set him up with, talking to people to encourage them to come to the rally or to remind them to contact their representatives and ask them to vote against the bill. He was worried, I knew, nervous for the outcome, doing all he could to make sure we won, and I did what I could to help him, but I knew there was only so much help I could give. In the end we had to wait for Lobby Day. We had to wait and see whether or not RJ King’s threats had been real. We had to see whether the project and the foundation had done enough.
The other residents of The Roosevelt knew we were working on an important project, though not all of them understood. None of them were coming to the rally with us, and neither Sally nor Tammy was coming down, though they both said they wished they could. Someone was making a live stream, and they promised they’d watch that, but it wouldn’t be the same as being there.
It’s funny, but sometimes I thought Stuart might have understood more of what was happening than people gave him credit for. He doesn’t have any way of communicating the way Darren does, but I’d noticed he kept trying to interact with us, especially Emmet and Darren. Maybe I was making it up, maybe I was projecting. Or maybe I’d gotten good at reading people with autism. Because when I sat with Stuart in the lounge and he screeched and flailed with his strange gestures…sometimes I thought he was telling me something important. All I know is when I told him, “We’re going to do our best to win,” he made what sounded like a happy screech to me.
The night before the vote, Kaya and Bob took us out to dinner at Aunt Maude’s and let us order whatever we wanted. A lot of people recognized us, and we felt like celebrities as we sat at our table. While we waited for our drinks to come, a woman came over to Emmet with tears in her eyes. She had on an apron, but she looked as if she’d come from the kitchen, not the waitstaff. The waitstaff around her held her shoulders and encouraged her to come forward.
“I’m so sorry for interrupting your meal, but I needed to tell you…” She wiped at her eyes, whispering a thank you as Kaya handed her a tissue. “Mr. Washington, my son has autism. We’ve tried a lot of things to get him to communicate with us, but he had a few bad experiences at an old school before we moved here, and then the move made him worse instead of better. Then he saw me watching your video on Facebook, and now he watches you seven or eight times a day, the ‘Try Everything’ videos and the ‘Happy’ one. He still isn’t talking, but he’s singing along with the videos, which is a big step for him, and he sings it all day long and will use it to talk to me sometimes, when he’s feeling good. If he sees your picture in the paper or online, he gets excited and lights up. You’re his hero, Mr. Washington, but you’re mine too.” She started crying again, but she kept talking. “You gave me back my baby. Thank you so much. Thank you so much.”
She had appeared in the space between Emmet and me, so Emmet stared at my shoulder as she spoke. When the silence went on too long and she became embarrassed and excused herself, apologizing over and over for interrupting us, Emmet held up a hand, first staying her, then signing to me, with shaking hands.
Please ask her to wait.
Most people at the table wouldn’t be able to read Emmet’s expression, but between his shaking hands and the way he had begun to rock himself ever so slowly in his seat, I knew he was feeling emotional, that this woman’s story had moved him and he needed a moment to compose himself before replying to her. To be honest I was feeling pretty emotional myself, but for Emmet’s sake I pulled myself together and addressed the woman.
“He’s asking if you would please wait a minute. He needs to collect himself before he can reply to you, but he doesn’t want you to leave yet. Thank you for understanding.”
The woman blinked at me, glanced at Emmet, then softened before turning to me. “Oh—yes, that’s fine. I am sorry for butting in, though. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. I work in the kitchen, but I heard from the waitstaff that The Roosevelt Blues Brothers were out here, and I couldn’t miss my chance. You’ve all meant so much to me and my family. I wanted to let you know, especially today, before the vote tomorrow. We won’t be able to go to the rally because it would be too much for my son—I’m homeschooling him right now, and he’d love to watch you perform, but he can’t handle the stimulation. We go by The Roosevel
t on our way home from the grocery store sometimes, though, because I told him it’s where Emmet from the video lives. We play the song and he sings along. He gets so happy.”
“I’m so glad to hear it.” I really was. “You should stop and see us sometime. We have a playground in the back. He could use the swings. A lot of the neighborhood kids do.”
“I don’t know if he’s ready for that, but thank you. I’ll remember.” She wiped her eyes again. “Anyway, about the rally. We contact our representative every day. She’s come to our house and met with us, and I wrote up a statement for her to read on the floor. Our whole family has contacted their representatives, and most of them live in a conservative district. So hopefully it helps.”
“What is your son’s name?”
Both the woman and I startled at Emmet’s voice. “Neil.”
“How old is Neil?”
“He’s eight.”
“Do you have a smartphone with a video camera?”
“I do. Why?”
Emmet lifted his gaze to the centerpiece in the center of the table. “David.”
David and the rest of the table had been listening to the whole conversation between the woman and Emmet and me. “Yeah?”
“I need to borrow your sunglasses.”
David reached into the pocket on the side of his tray and pulled out his sunglasses, which were the same as our Blues Brothers sunglasses. He liked the ones we used for our costume so much he’d ordered a second pair for personal use, and he always had them with him. He passed them to Darren, who passed them to me, and I handed them to Emmet.
Emmet slipped them onto his face. “I want you to record something for Neil, please.”
“Oh—yes, please, that would be wonderful!” The woman shifted in place, accidentally almost stepping on Mai. I gave a quiet command to Mai to move to my other side as the woman apologized, and I decided I didn’t want to think of her as “the woman” any longer.
“I’m Jeremey Samson.” I held out my hand. “What’s your name?”
Shelter the Sea Page 17
