Mother's Milk

by Charles Atkins

  He had just reached the top rung as the ladder shot out from under his feet. He clutched for the roof edge, missed, and fell forward. He screamed and grabbed frantically, managing to catch the iron railing where the fire escape was bolted to the brick. He hung on, as the flimsy ladder fell hard next to Barrett. It balanced like a teeter-totter on the edge of the roof and then slid over the edge; it bounced off the side of the building, shattered a window, and crashed to the ground.

  She stared in horror as Chase held fast to the railing, a few short inches from the rooftop. He was also close to safety, just needed to pull himself over the railing and onto the fire escape. She could tell that the weight of whatever he had in those bags wouldn’t give him much time. She imagined the frantic thoughts running through his head – Safety and the fire escape … but certain capture, or back to the roof and a last stab at escape.

  ‘Drop the bags, Chase! Just pull up onto the fire escape. You can make it,’ she shouted. ‘It’s not worth dying for.’

  He said nothing, but his answer was obvious as he tried to dead-lift his weight. He balanced on the fire-escape railing, pressing his body tight against the brick wall, his chin cleared the rooftop. His right arm swung up and gripped the roof edge.

  Behind her she heard the pounding of footsteps as she watched Chase cling to the building’s edge. He was actually going to make it. His left arm found a grip, but the bag he’d slung over his shoulder slipped back. He tried to correct the shift in weight, but his right hand faltered and lost its hold. He tried to hang on with his left, but the weight was too much. For a moment he seemed to hang, defying gravity, pressed to the side of the building, like a giant spider … and then he fell.

  She stood frozen to the spot and listened. The sound his body made hitting the asphalt six stories below was complex, like a chord with a heavy thud in the bass, something hard and metallic in the middle, and the cracking of bones in the upper register. It made her feel sick as she realized that no one could survive that; he was dead.

  Across the alley she saw uniformed officers swarm the roof, as Hobbs approached from behind. ‘You OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Not really,’ she said, feeling awful that she was responsible for Chase’s death. Yes, he’d shot at her, but when she’d grabbed that ladder, his back was turned. Why didn’t you just leave him for the cops?

  ‘I’m getting you back to the hospital,’ he said. ‘We can take your statement later.’

  She looked down at her torn jeans, and at an oozing four-inch gash on her upper arm – might need stitches. She thought to argue. What she really wanted was a bath and her bed, to fall asleep and not have to picture Chase clinging to the wall, or looking into her eyes over dinner like a man in love.

  ‘Where’s Jerod?’ she asked, hoping that Hobbs wouldn’t notice the tears.

  ‘He’s OK.’

  As is if on cue he appeared, his mass of dreads tucked under a navy NYPD cap. ‘You look like shit, Dr. Conyors. Did he get away?’

  ‘No,’ she answered dully.

  ‘You shouldn’t be up here,’ Hobbs commented to Jerod.

  ‘I know, I just can’t help it. I’ve got this role model who keeps breaking rules, what’s a guy to do?’

  Barrett felt drained, her heart pounded in her ears. ‘I want to get out of here … Hobbs, could you please just get me home or to my mom’s. I need to see Max.’

  ‘No hospital?’

  She looked at the gash on her arm. ‘It’s just a little ooze. They’ll keep me for hours and what I need is sleep.’

  ‘Your call.’

  She looked at Jerod, the blacks of his eyes like saucers, patches of sweat drenching his clothes – but somehow marshalling strength and humor. ‘How are you doing?’ she asked, amazed at how little she knew this young man who she’d evaluated on multiple occasions.

  ‘Been better,’ he admitted, taking a deep breath and letting it out, ‘been worse. Keep thinking about dope.’

  ‘My offer stands,’ she said, ‘you could do this much more easily with drugs.’

  ‘Thanks … but I want to feel this … remember it.’ He looked at Hobbs. ‘You’re not going to let them forget Carly, are you? I know she’s out there. I don’t want to think about where, or what they’ve done to her. Marky’s gotta know something.’

  ‘I won’t forget. And we’ll need a statement from you, as well. But it can wait till tomorrow. So let’s get you both out of here.’

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Barrett woke in the tiny bedroom she’d grown up in. Justine’s matching twin bed was gone, replaced by Max in his crib. Light streamed through the sheer green curtains of the single window that faced the Bowery and the high-rise condo building on the other side. Sensing somehow she was awake, Max let out a soft cry. Feeling aches deep in her bones and joints she moved slowly, pulling her pajama-clad legs to the edge of the bed, dangling them off. She glanced at the lit numbers on the alarm clock; after ten. She tried to think through the events of last night, and of how she and Jerod had finally made it to her mother’s just before 4 A.M. All she’d been able to manage was a quick shower; slapped some gauze and tape around her arm and thigh and fallen into bed.

  ‘Ow.’ Blisters throbbed on the soles of both feet. She stood slowly, and peered over Max’s crib; she reached down. He felt soft and warm and she held him close, then settled back on her bed and unbuttoned her thin cotton top. She led his mouth to her nipple, his little hands kneading the flesh of her breasts as he suckled. It was peace, her thoughts quiet, as she batted away the realities of the day ahead. But in that moment, she realized little of that mattered, not really. Max was all; he was everything. He was beautiful and he was a part of her. His blue eyes, the color of the morning sky, looked up as he fed. She remembered the mockingbird song her mother used to sing, and quietly hummed, and then sang, ‘Hush, little baby, don’t you cry. Momma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird … ’

  A gentle knock, and her mother’s voice. ‘Barrett … honey, can I come in?’

  ‘Sure.’

  The door opened and Ruth, in jeans, a black T-shirt from the bar, and her hair in a red kerchief, came in and settled next to her.

  ‘Where’s Jerod?’ Barrett asked.

  ‘Out like a light. How much longer till he feels better?’

  ‘He should be through the worst of it, but it’s different with everyone.’

  ‘I like him,’ Ruth said, ‘there’s something sweet about him …’

  ‘I know,’ Barrett said, again thinking of how much he reminded her of that long-ago crush on Kyle Matthews, ‘but he’s got no one. No place to go, no money, nothing.’

  ‘He’s got you, sweetheart.’

  ‘Not really,’ Barrett said, feeling her bubble of calm begin to pop, harsh realities pressing in. ‘I’m his doctor; that’s about it.’

  ‘He can stay here,’ Ruth said, as she stood and walked over to the dresser and got a fresh towel. ‘I wasn’t sure about that before, especially with the baby, but I have a feeling about him. He’s got a good heart.’

  Barrett took the towel from her mother and draped it over her left shoulder. She hefted up Max, every day a bit heavier, and laid him gently down, rubbing his back in circles and then gently patted him. She looked around the room, thinking about how her mother had packed Justine and her into a car in rural Georgia when they were small and driven through the night to escape a husband who got drunk and beat her. Barrett barely remembered her father, tall and angry with a shock of black hair. But the couple who’d taken them in – Sophie and Max – two Holocaust survivors who’d adopted the three of them as though they were blood relatives still crisp in her mind and heart. ‘You know he has problems,’ she finally said.

  ‘Is he dangerous?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then it doesn’t matter. We all have problems …’ She let out a long sigh, ‘It’s been a long time since we’ve talked, Barrett, I mean really talked.’

  ‘I know … it’s just …’

  �
�I’m not pushing. Whatever it is you feel you can’t tell me can wait. Just don’t shut me out. I need my girls.’

  ‘I need you too,’ Barrett said, and wished the moment could last, as Ruth carefully reached over and hugged her daughter, and her grandson.

  Finally, she pulled back. ‘I hope it’s OK, but I called your secretary to let her know you’d be late … or maybe not in at all.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Barrett said, as she realized that Janice was dead and there were a ton of questions to be answered. And then an avalanche of other things that needed to be done, including giving a statement. Well, at least she’d see Hobbs. She owed him a huge apology, and just like she’d underestimated Jerod, she needed to find a way to repair their friendship, and maybe there was something more there. ‘Mom?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You like Ed, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course, he’s kind of a vanishing breed.’

  ‘I know … he’s solid, and funny and smart and … I really messed things up with him.’

  ‘Do you love him?’

  Ruth’s bluntness stunned her, but the answer that came fast and clear shocked her. ‘I do. I really do, but he’s seeing someone else and … I …’

  A knock at the door. ‘Can I come in?’ Jerod asked.

  ‘Hold on,’ Barrett said, buttoning her pajama top. ‘OK.’

  The tip of his head poked through, his dreads concealed beneath a red kerchief identical to the one her mother wore. ‘You want coffee?’ he asked, pushing the door with his foot while carrying three steaming mugs. He was wearing a pair of blue scrubs and his feet were bare.

  ‘That would be great, and who are you?’ Barrett asked. ‘What happened to Jerod?’

  ‘It’s me. I didn’t know what either of you took, so it’s the junkie special for everyone.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘Four sugars and half of it’s milk.’

  ‘How does that make it a junkie special?’

  ‘Sugar, something about dope, you always want sweets. Plus where you don’t think too much about food, and all your money goes for dope, it turns a cup of coffee into a meal. Sugar has calories and you can take as much as you want for free, same thing with milk,’ he explained.

  Barrett put Max back in his crib and sipped the hot sweet coffee. ‘It’s not bad.’ She usually took it black, but found something comforting in it, like a child’s first taste of coffee, all the bitterness buried under sugar. ‘Are you hurting?’ she asked, looking at Jerod. The circles under his eyes were less extreme, but his pupils had still not returned to normal.

  ‘Craving like a mother,’ he said, settling down on the rocker beside the crib, ‘but I think the worst is past. The voice is there,’ he said, ‘keeps telling me to use, that I’m not going to be able to stay clean. I figure I’ll stay in as much as possible, maybe vacuum or something. I have to stay busy.’

  ‘Vacuum?’ Barrett asked.

  ‘I don’t know why,’ he said, ‘it’s soothing, the noise and the feeling like you’re getting something done.’

  ‘You can vacuum all you want,’ Ruth said, ‘not my favorite thing.’

  ‘Good, because if you’re going to let me stay here, you’ve got to let me do stuff. I’ll do all the cleaning, and if you need me to look after Max, it’s no problem.’

  Ruth shot Barrett a look.

  ‘I saw that,’ he said. ‘If you don’t want me looking after Max I understand.’

  ‘It’s not—’ Barrett began.

  He interrupted her. ‘Dr. Conyors, you don’t have to explain. You’ve done too much already. And letting some junkie schizophrenic look after your kid … probably get DFYS knocking at your door.’

  ‘You know,’ Barrett said, ‘I’ve got other fish to fry and if DFYS want to complain about my child-rearing, they’ve got plenty of their own problems to answer for.’

  ‘No kidding,’ Jerod said, taking a gulp of the super-sweet coffee. ‘I hope you don’t get mad … but I kind of heard what you were talking about … You know he’s into you?’

  Barrett felt blood rush to her cheeks, ‘I think you’re wrong,’ she said, wanting to avoid a coffee-klatch over her non-romantic life.

  ‘I’m not,’ he affirmed, ‘he’s always looking at you, and you can just tell. I think if you gave him half a chance.’

  ‘Can we please talk about something … anything else,’ Barrett said, but wondering if Jerod was right, and then relieved by the sudden ringing of the phone. ‘I’ll get it,’ she said. It was Marla.

  ‘Dr. Conyors, I hate to bother you, but I just got off the phone with the Lieutenant Governor, there’s a meeting in two hours and he insisted that you be there. He said it has to do with the department and Dr. Fleet. I told him you hadn’t come in and weren’t feeling well. He got kind of rude, said this wasn’t optional, and that you were expected.’

  ‘OK, Marla, just tell me where and when. Also, what are people saying about what happened?’

  ‘It’s wild. She was murdered in her apartment, they’re saying it was a failed robbery.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Barrett asked.

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘I can’t say, but keep your ears open, let me know about any gossip and who’s doing it.’

  ‘Does this have something to do with whoever broke into your office?’

  ‘Among other things.’

  ‘I do have one tidbit,’ Marla offered.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It seems Hugh Osborn reported his key card as being stolen.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘Interesting, but it shouldn’t give him access to my office anyway.’

  ‘Well … that’s what I thought,’ Marla said, ‘and then I asked a few questions down at security, it turns out that when he was trying to take over your office during your leave, he’d told them to give him access … and they had. When you returned they never deactivated it.’

  ‘Excellent work, Marla,’ she felt a sense of satisfaction as one of the missing pieces slid into place, ‘but don’t let Hugh know what you just told me. I’ve got to figure out just how much of this mess he’s involved with.’

  ‘It wasn’t a robbery, was it?’ Marla asked.

  ‘The break-in?’

  ‘No, I meant Dr. Fleet. It was something else, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but why would you think that?’

  ‘Something the Lieutenant Governor said about the meeting, called it damage control … that and I’ve had half a dozen reporters try to get through to you.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘That’s about it. Just please be careful. I’ve seen how these higher-ups use everyone below them as target practice.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’ Barrett hung up and looked at the clock. She hated the feeling of being ordered around, but her curiosity was blazing. Janice had been a darling of this administration; depending on what came out in the press, ‘damage control’ was going to be tough.

  Now eleven and she’d need to be downtown in less than two hours … at least they hadn’t insisted on meeting in Albany. ‘Mom, do you still have that gray suit I got you?’

  ‘Just wore it the once,’ she admitted. ‘Not really my style – I think it’s still in a dry-cleaning bag.’

  ‘Could you find it, and some kind of neutral blouse. You wear nines, right?’

  ‘Yes, dear, you inherited your mother’s big feet.’

  ‘Please get me your most boring black pumps, preferably something with a low heel … although it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Ruth asked. ‘You’re telling me after all you went through last night, you have to go to work?’

  ‘No choice.’

  ‘You have court today?’

  ‘No, apparently I’m about to meet the Lieutenant Governor, and Lord knows who else. I have a feeling heads are about to roll. My boss had wanted me fired and until they appoint someone as acting commissioner I guess I report
all the way to the top. Wonder if I’ll have a job at the end of the day.’

  ‘Serious?’ Jerod asked.

  ‘This could blow up in the press,’ she said, wondering just how involved Janice had been with the drugs and whatever creepy dealings Chase had had.

  ‘You want me to go with you?’ Jerod asked, clearly alarmed. ‘I can vouch for you. You’re the only doctor who’s ever really cared. I mean look at all you’ve done for me. People don’t do that.’

  ‘Jerod,’ Barrett said, wondering what he would look like without all that hair, ‘that’s sweet. But caring and competence have nothing to do with politics … there’s going to be all kinds of investigations.’

  ‘You’re serious,’ her mom said. ‘You think they’d try to blame what happened on you?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ Barrett said, feeling a surge of determination, ‘but I’ve a feeling this is going to be one hell of a day.’

  On the cab ride down, Barrett called Houssman. Her long-time mentor had earlier called. ‘It made the papers,’ he reported, ‘not a lot of particulars and still entirely separate stories.’

  ‘How did you even know about it?’

  ‘Spies in low places,’ he said.

  ‘Whatever,’ suspecting he’d gone through Marla, who was still devoted to George – her former boss. ‘Give me the details. I literally just rolled out of bed and was commanded to this high-echelon meeting, tell me what they wrote.’

  ‘OK,’ he said, papers crinkling. ‘Page two, Metro section, we’ve got a police manhunt in TriBeCa, gunshots fired … one seriously injured suspect, another in custody.’

  ‘Stop there. Seriously injured, not dead?’

  ‘Not dead and names not released either, which unless they were minors, why keep the names out? Right there, you know something’s up.’

  ‘What else?’ she asked, feeling a burden of relief that she’d not killed Chase, followed by a severely queasy feeling that he was still alive.

  ‘The big news … front page, Commissioner of DFYS murdered in her Chelsea home … apparent robbery … undisclosed amount of jewelry and cash … police looking for suspects, and then quite a lovely bio of Janice … creator and founder of the Mother’s Milk drop-in centers … a force for at-risk youth, and on and on. Hmm.’