The Brothers (9 page)

“Jan?”

I whirl around. Robbie stands at the end of the hallway, holding his mop. His hair splays out from his head in a halo of golden-brown curls. He lifts his eyebrows and I realize I must look half-crazy, my body as tight as a wire. I try to relax and smile.

“Hi.”

He steps toward me, the mop bucket clanging over grout lines. Little drops of water splash on the floor. “You look freaked out.”

“I’m okay,” I say, my heart fluttering around in my chest. “What are you up to?”

He shrugs and points to the mop. “Saving the world. You?”

My hand finds my pocket and the supply request Nanny Bell wrote out for me. I dig it out and shove it at him.

He takes the paper from my sweaty hand and reads it. “I have these. You wanna wait for them? I’d deliver them, but I can’t go past floor three.” He pushes a hand through his curls and shrugs like it’s his fault he doesn’t have clearance to go to any of the floors with girls.

I follow Robbie and his jangling bucket back to the desk. He glances over at me and frowns again, but he doesn’t ask. When we reach the desk, he slides the bucket and mop into a corner, drags out a ring of cards, and thumbs through them.

“Fifteen cards on this ring. You’d think I’d have them labeled, but I ain’t that smart.” He studies my face. “You sure there’s nothing wrong?”

There’s a bird in my throat, flapping around in circles. I swallow hard and shake my head.

He turns to the door and swipes the card under the reader. The door opens into a long, dim space, lined with shelves. He clicks on an overhead light.

My body thrums as I realize this is my moment. If I stand here like a statue and let Robbie fetch me cleaning fluid, my chance will pass. I force one leg to move. Then the other. I walk with jerking steps until I’m standing beside Robbie at the door. He smells of lemon, cinnamon, and warm, dusty ground, what I imagine the night bazaar smells like.

When he senses me beside him, he turns. Behind his beard, his face is young, maybe seventeen with deep, chocolate eyes and pink lips. He parts them slightly.

“Do you…need something else? Something for your roommate? I can get you anything.” His eyes trace the curves of my face, stopping at my lips, but then snap to look at the floor. “Whatever you need,” he says to the tile.

I take another step until our bodies are inches away. I can feel the heat of his chest, smell the musky scent I missed before. My hand covers his on the doorknob and the touch of his skin ignites me. The nerves are gone. Desire has replaced them.

I turn my face to Robbie’s and whisper close to his ear. “This time I need something for myself.”

I lurch upright and grip the Jeep seat, my fingers clawed over the cracked leather.

“That’s the story?” I nearly shout. “That’s the story of how I was conceived?”

Auntie, in a trance for most of the telling, startles at my tone. She frowns and points a finger at me. “Don’t shout at me! You wanna give me a heart attack?”

Doc whirls around in the driver’s seat. “If she’s shouting, it means she’s getting better. How’s the pain?”

I realize I haven’t been paying much attention to my pain. The sharp throb still pulses at my arm where I was stung, but it’s bearable. “I don’t feel like gnawing off my own arm.”

He smirks. “I guess that’s good.”

I shift my gaze to Auntie. “Is that true? Is my father a janitor named Robbie?”

She gazes at me for a moment. “You have his eyes. His mouth too, I think. I only met him a few times.”

I lie back on the bench seat, wet with my perspiration. My father is a janitor named Robbie. My mother seduced him to save herself from an evil doctor. The thought spins and spins in my head until I’m sick with it. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Why didn’t Mama tell me?”

Auntie Bell grumbles. “Janine never let me tell ya anything about the Breeders. Said she never wanted you to know they existed.”

“Well, we all failed on that front, didn’t we?” I feel a pulsing anger, but at whom? At Mama for never telling me the story? At Auntie for helping her keep the secret? At the Breeders for forcing her to make a choice?

“Did she love him?” I ask.

Auntie pauses and scratches under her eye patch. “Hard to say. He cared about her deeply.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I say, staring up at the Jeep’s ceiling.

“There is no answer to your goddamn question.” Auntie leans her head back on the headrest. “Love isn’t the core of everything, you know. You get old like me and you realize love can make you do foolish things. Safety, security—some things can rise above love.”

I shake my head, the anger still kindling in my chest. “My love for Clay is bigger than anything.”

“Bigger than wanting your brother back? Bigger than saving Ethan?”

I glare at her. “That’s not fair.”

“Stop sayin’ that, puddin’.” She narrows her good eye. “The sooner you stop saying life isn’t fair, the sooner you’ll come to grips with how things are. Life is a series of pitfalls. Fair and unfair got nothing to do with it.”

I grit my teeth and punch the seat. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this story. Mama’s not dead two months and now you’re telling me I got a father somewhere.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, unsure what’s worse, the pain in my arm or my heart.

“You need this story,” she says, arms crossed, not looking at me. She glances at Doc, who’s been trying his damnedest to be invisible. “She does need it.”

“Whatever you say,” Doc says, holding his hands up.

“What I need is Clay and Ethan back,” I say, siting up. My head spins and my vision blurs. I press a hand to my forehead. “When do we leave?”

“You can’t even stand,” Auntie says, glancing at me. “You think you’re ready to take on Nessa Vandewater?”

I roll my eyes and flop back on the seat. I’m being a brat, I know this, but it’s all been too much and now all I can think about is my father, the outsider janitor. “Is he still alive?”

“No way to tell. Never saw him again after we left the hospital.” She levels me with a solid gaze. “Your mother did what she had to do so you could be born. She always wanted a baby. She was thrilled to pieces when you showed up.”

“I’ll bet,” I say, curling toward the cracked leather seat.

Auntie Bell huffs, her mouth puckering in a wrinkled frown. “Nobody said life was a fairy tale, puddin’. Those went extinct with flush toilets.” She scratches her armpit.

“Why didn’t the girls have pink roses on their gowns when I was there?”

She gazes out across the mesquite trees. “I’m not sure, but I’ll tell ya what I figure. They used those roses as incentives to make the girls want to be pregnant, but all it did was build a caste system. C Hall and D Hall girls were the peons, and A and B Hall girls ruled. Soon the C and D girls didn’t much care about getting pregnant. They became despondent. Rebellious. It’s the same damn thing that happened thousands of years ago. Oppress people long enough and they get pissed. Ignore that and you’re likely to end up with a pike up your ass.”

“Eloquent,” Doc says, sniffing.

“You got a nicer way to put it, Mr. High-and-Mighty?” Auntie Bell asks, leveling him with her good eye.

“No, no,” Doc says, holding out his hands apologetically. “You’re right. Nasty business.”

Auntie scoffs.

“How come you never taught me to sign?” I ask.

Auntie holds out knotty, arthritic fingers. “Became too damn hard. Plus, we don’t need it. Out here, nobody’s listenin’.”

I nod, but a throb of pain builds so big it feels like my whole brain is being squeezed through my spinal column. I close my eyes. Breathe as it washes over me.

Auntie sighs. “Maybe this story is too much for your weak constitution.”

I shake my head. “Go on. It’s too late to turn back now.”

Bell frowns. “It isn’t pleasant, love. Prepare yourself.”

On my birthday, the sky is clouded and dark. I’ve been up since before dawn, peering outside. Below my window, small, human shapes clean up trash from the night bazaar. Guards and orderlies trickle in the gates for early morning shifts. The scavenger birds tilt and wheel in the sky like kites on a windy day.

As the gray dawn warms, my body turns cold. They’ll come for me soon.

Sabrina stirs, and then snaps upright.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Are you?” she says, panicked, reaching for her hair ribbon. As she ties it around her head, she eyes me. “When are they coming?”

“Soon.”

“What’re you going to do?” She looks at my stomach. “Do you think…?”

“You’ve asked me a hundred times. I’ve told you, I don’t know.” My hand finds my abdomen and rubs like a mystic with her magic ball.

“Do you feel different?” She gets up and stuffs her large feet into slippers.

“No. Same as every morning.” I turn and grip the window frame. Outside, a man in gray coveralls is slipping past the guards and through the gate. Robbie? I haven’t seen him since that night, but he sends me little gifts. A pressed wildflower is hidden under my change of clothes. Another puzzle box is concealed under my mattress. The man below my window turns. Not Robbie. I sigh and press my hand to my cheek.

“Some girls don’t have morning sickness,” Sabrina says, standing beside me.

I nod, but my throat is dry.

“Some girls don’t feel anything until four months. Even five.” She leans a shoulder against the concrete.

I stare down at my hands. The nail beds are clean. I made sure to scrub them last night. I want to remember them clean like this. Clean nails, clean fingers, clean hands. My hands form sign language letters on the windowsill.
Please
.

A knock at the door. We both turn. Dr. Bashees stands in the doorway with Dr. Houghtson and Dr. Martinez. Dr. Bashees’ face is serious. He clasps his hands behind his back and clears his throat. “Janine of D Hall, today is your—”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt.

Sabrina stares at me, wide-eyed.

The doctors startle, but none looks as shocked as Dr. Houghtson. “What?” he asks.

“I’m pregnant,” I repeat. “Check me. I know I am. I know the treatment took this time.”

Dr. Bashees blanches and turns to Dr. Houghtson. “I thought you said you checked her already. That she’s barren.”

Dr. Houghtson opens his mouth.

“He hasn’t checked me yet. Check me now. I want a blood test.” A crowd has gathered behind the doctors in the hallway. Nanny Bell’s face lurks over Dr. Martinez’s shoulder.

Dr. Bashees looks at Dr. Houghtson, who stares at me in open-mouthed shock. “Well?” Dr. Bashees asks.

“I haven’t checked her, no.”

“Well, what the hell are we standing here for?” Dr. Bashees’ cheeks burn red. He smacks a hand on his thigh. “Test the damn girl and be done with it. I’ve got better things to do.” He strides away. Dr. Martinez follows.

Dr. Houghtson strides into the room, grabs my wrist, and pulls me toward the door. Bell blocks the doorway, fists at her hips.

“I’ll assist you, Doctor.” She says “doctor” like it’s a dirty word.

He leans in and sneers at her. “Like hell you will.”

Bell narrows her eyes and drops her voice to a whisper. “If you think I’m going to let you test this girl alone, then you’ve got your head so far up your arse you can see daylight.” She grins, showing all her teeth. “Try me.”

He frowns and tightens his grip on my wrist, which is starting to hurt, but I can’t take my eyes off Bell. What is she doing?

“Fine.” He yanks me forward and shoulders past her.

“Jan!” Sabrina calls from our room. “I’ll have breakfast waiting for you!” It’s her way of saying
Please be okay. And come back
.

Every girl in D Hall is out of her room and staring as we march to the elevators. Girls from C and B jog down hallways and press into clumps as we wait at the doors. The hiss of whispers floats all around. My face burns and my wrist aches in Houghtson’s grip. He won’t look at Bell or me. Will he hurt us in the exam room? Bell is a force, but Houghtson is a man. Men always win.

In the exam room, Bell stands in the corner, her arms crossed. I sit on the table and tremble. When Dr. Houghtson draws my blood, his hands are rougher than they’ve ever been. He won’t meet my eyes. Angry veins pulse in his neck. When he pulls the needle from my arm, he lets the blood dribble into the crease of my elbow. Nanny Bell presses a cotton ball to the hole and glares at Houghtson.

He and Bell don’t return for a long time. I wait in tense silence, staring at the plain white walls.

After several long minutes, the door bursts open. Houghtson stands in the doorway with Bell behind him. It’s clear he’s furious.

“You’re pregnant. Congratulations.” His eyes are cold and his tone is dead. If Bell weren’t here, I’m pretty sure he’d choke me.

I sit perfectly still. Is it true? Is he lying?

“Looks like the IVF finally took,” Bell says slyly.

Dr. Houghtson flashes her a dangerous look. “Right.” Then he’s gone.

Bell grips my shoulder and whispers into my ear. “Congratulations, puddin’, but be careful. Houghtson won’t just let this go.”

She leads me back to the elevators. I float down the hallway. Can it really be true? Can I really be pregnant? The doors ding open.

A figure appears around the corner. Houghtson. I step into the elevator to avoid him, but he shoves Bell aside and enters it.

Gasping, I step out, but Houghtson’s hand hits my chest and pushes me back inside. I skitter back, bang into the wall, and land on my bottom. Houghtson hits the button and the doors slide shut.

I scramble into the corner as he hits the emergency stop button. The elevator lurches beneath me. I’m stuck. I’m trapped—
trapped—
and he wants to kill me. There are no cameras in here. It’s why he chose the elevator. Only Bell knows I’m here. He whirls around. I curl into a ball. I need to protect my baby.

His hands grab my arms, yank me upright, and he slams me into the wall, my head banging against the metal. My vision blurs. I look into his terrible face.

“When I made the deal with Bashees to hand over my
entire
life savings, I didn’t know I was getting a whore!” He shakes me and spittle flies into my face. I turn away.