The House of Tomorrow (24 page)

“I don’t know,” I said. “She must have used my climbing gear.”

“Your old granny shot up there like Spider-Man?”

I couldn’t believe she had accomplished so much in a couple of days. Where had she gotten all the supplies? Where had the energy come from? I found my way to a clear spot just southeast of Tanzania and looked inside. Nana was not in her bed. I started walking around to the front.

“Wait,” said Jared. “Where are you going? You came to see if she was okay. And she is. She’s been painting her elderly ass off. She’s fine.”

I continued walking along the side of my home. I glanced up at Indonesia, perfectly rendered in some shade of navy. I made it around to the front door and slipped my old key in the lock. It still fit. I turned the handle slowly and stepped back into the dome. I took in a long breath full of paint fumes. The first thing I noticed was the mess. There was plastic sheeting in a tangle on the living room floor, held down by half-full cans of paint, rollers, and a stepladder. There were brushes soaking in Nana’s stockpot, and a new, more elaborate map lay near the NordicTrack. Here were all her supplies, but where was Nana? I reached the staircase to the second floor and peered up, uneasily.

The moon provided only enough light to see the landing. I took a step. Then another. I crept as silently as I could until I made it to the top. I looked into my old schoolroom. It was empty, and the furnishings were still disheveled from Nana’s drunken monitor-napping. I turned next into my bedroom. I set one foot in, and right away I stepped down on a large book and nearly tripped. I hopped back a step and looked closely at it. It was my parents’ photo album, and it was right next to Nana’s feet.

She was there on the floor next to my bed, amid a makeshift pallet of blankets. She was still fully dressed from the day, and her amber tracksuit was covered in pointillist freckles of paint. I had to listen really closely to hear her breathing. She was procumbent, face to pillow, and she seemed to be pulling in air from the very corner of her mouth. Just the faintest whistle. What I could see of her face was anxious in sleep. Her one visible eye seemed to be searching for something under the lid. I leaned down to wake her, but before my hand got all the way to her arm, I stopped it.

She was completing her project without me.

The realization was not a pleasant one. It was true that the Geoscope had never been my ambition, but I couldn’t believe she had moved forward by herself. And so soon. Despite what she’d said, it seemed she didn’t need me at all. With scarcely a day’s passing, she had resigned herself to my absence. It took all my willpower not to fall to the floor and embrace her, begging for answers. But I couldn’t do that. She was leaving me behind. I had betrayed her trust, and she had made it known to me early on that trust and communication were the truly evolved states of humankind.

Bucky believed that, though scientifically immeasurable, an understanding between two people is one of the strongest bonds that can exist. It is metaphysical synergy. Two minds reaching a point of acceptance and harmony with each other. No physical act can match it. And trust is at the heart of it. A false understanding is tantamount to false love. In short: I had hurt Nana. And now she was hurting me back.

Using every bit of grace and quiet left in my body, I reached into the folds of the photo album and thumbed out a few pictures at random. I chose from the back of the book, hoping Nana wouldn’t remember the very last images as clearly as the others. I slid the glossy prints into my back pocket and nudged the album back exactly where I found it. I looked down at Nana one last time. She was fast asleep, wholly static. I turned and left the room, taking the stairs with care.

“Good night, Nana,” I whispered into an echo spot in the dome.

I listened closely for her voice, but nothing came.

WE MADE IT BACK TO JARED’S HOUSE BY TWO IN THE morning. The ride passed quickly, and we didn’t linger or pay particular attention to the quiet mystery of the night. We were both weary, ready to be back amid the balmy puffs of the humidifier. I hadn’t said anything since I left the dome, and Jared had only posed one question. “Is she still kicking?” He asked it when I came around to the back of the dome. He was peeking out from behind a black walnut tree, his mask pulled up onto his forehead. I nodded once. Then we’d walked wordlessly back to our transport and gone soaring down Hillsboro Drive.

The only task left to us now was to reenter the Whitcomb house without being caught. Early conditions were promising: the whole house was still dark and silent. No one seemed to be waiting up for us. And there were no “pigs” parked in the driveway to nab us upon arrival. We stowed the bike away, closed up the garage, and got all the way to the front porch before Jared discovered an oversight.

“Balls!” he said, as soon as his hand was in his pants pocket.

He felt his other pocket, then frantically patted every pocket of his jackets.

“Horse balls,” he said.

“You’ve forgotten the key,” I said.

“This is an unbelievable load of balls,” he said.

“But we didn’t lock the door,” I said.

“It locks when you pull it shut!”

We stood looking at each other. The cold was feeling colder already.

“We can’t wake Janice,” I said. “She’ll send me away. This was all my idea.”

“We’ll stay in the garage,” said Jared. “Tomorrow we’ll say we got up early and locked ourselves out.”

We both looked at the garage. “It wasn’t considerably warmer in there.”

“I’m just thinking out loud,” said Jared. “Just give me a damn minute here.”

He sat down on the porch and took off his glasses. He covered his mask holes with his hands. I hopped in place for warmth and breathed giant steaming breaths into my hands. After a while, I looked up to the tree branch where Meredith’s shoes used to twirl in the wind. It was odd to see them gone. Jared looked up and saw me watching.

“It’s really the only way,” he said.

“What is?” I said.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he said.

And after we started walking around to the side of the house, I did. My heartbeat accelerated riotously as we drew nearer to Meredith’s window. I had looked at it in passing when we went by the house, and it had appeared completely dark. But up closer, it was clear that there was a light on. It was just being muted by a dark window shade.

“Thank God she’s still awake,” said Jared. “All we need is some harpy shriek when we knock on the glass to wake up . . .”

He stopped talking when he reached the window. The shade was pulled down almost all the way, but there was an inch or so of exposed glass. Jared was looking through this opening.

“What is it?” I said.

He turned away from the window. “There’s a dude in there with her,” he said.

I took an icy breath and joined him at the opening. Through our sliver of unobstructed glass, I could see Meredith’s lower body on the bed. She wore a pair of men’s boxer shorts and her smooth legs were crossed at the knee. Her foot was lolling in the air. I couldn’t see a male in the room, but I knew Jared wouldn’t have lied. I waited a little longer, and sure enough, a boy’s hand came down and his fingers splayed across her thigh. I felt myself flinching. Jared turned around from the glass.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “What is it with her? It’s like this is her only hobby.”

I kept watching. The hand just sat there, then started inching farther up.

“It figures the one time I need her help, she’s letting some mouth-breather feel her up. Now we’re going to freeze to death.”

When the hand got to the hem of the boxer shorts, Meredith pushed it off. The hand retreated for a moment. Then it landed back even higher up the shorts. Again Meredith shoved it off.

“Sebastian,” said Jared. “Knock it off! That’s my sister you’re peeping at.”

“She doesn’t want him in there,” I said.

Meredith was holding his hand now, and I could hear her through the glass, shouting something at him.

“Of course she wants him in there,” said Jared. “She’s not going to stop until she jerks off the whole town.”

Suddenly, the guy stood up, blocking my view. He took a slow step toward Meredith. That’s when I threw open the window.

“What the hell are you doing?” yelled Jared.

The pane went up with surprising ease, and I was up and through the window in two solid motions. First I hoisted myself to window level, then pushed myself through headfirst. I crumpled onto the floor, and when I opened my eyes, I was looking up at a shirtless guy with red hair and what appeared to be shaving stubble on his chin. He looked down at me, puzzled. I scrambled to my feet. Meredith was speechless.

“Out!” I said.

“Wait,” he said to Meredith. “Who is this guy?”

“Sebastian,” said Meredith quietly, “I think it would be best if you left.”

“Hold up,” said the guy. “Is this your little punk rock brother? The sick one?”

He looked at me and laughed for some reason.

“Don’t be an ass,” said Meredith.

He leaned down toward me. “You know about what your sister does?” he asked. “You know what she does in here?”

I glanced over at Meredith before I acted. Her face was bright red, and she was looking straight down at the carpeting. I walked up to the guy with my arms cocked, and let loose. I shoved him as hard as I could, and his chest sprang right off my hands. He fell hard, just missing a crack on the cranium from the window frame. I could almost hear the anger hissing in him after he hit the ground. And I knew when he got up he was going to cause me as much harm as he possibly could. But when he tried to rise from the ground, two small arms came through the window and grabbed onto his neck.

“Gotcha!” said Jared.

“
Ahhhh
,” he screamed in an oddly high voice. “Get off me!”

But Jared didn’t let go. He was hanging off the ground, holding tight to the guy’s neck. He was wearing his face mask down with his glasses. He resembled a bookish criminal. Meredith stood up on her bed.

“Jared!” she said. “What are you doing? You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Die, meathead!” yelled Jared.

The kid started swinging wildly, trying to knock Jared off. And he likely would have succeeded if I hadn’t jumped on top of him. I used all my weight to pin him against the wall in a sitting position. We had him now. He was nearly immobile. I dug a knee into his thigh and he sputtered a small yelp.

“
Gah!
” he said. “Let me up, you bastards.”

“No chance,” said Jared.

“You’re . . . choking me,” he grunted.

Then we saw a faint light go on under the door, and heard the creak of the house.

“Meredith!” yelled Janice in a froggy voice. “What’s going on in there?”

At the sound of her voice, Jared dropped off the guy’s neck and hit the ground below. With Jared’s weight gone, the guy pushed me off him and then stood above me, jaw clenched. He looked down at me like he wanted to stomp the life from me. But Janice’s voice came from her room again and sent him running to the window. He stopped right before he jumped out and looked like he wanted to utter something devastating. But instead all he did was breathe a burst of air out his nose and say, “Outrageous.” He may have even said it twice.

He ducked out the window and hit the yard running. Jared waited a moment, then poked his head up, but Meredith closed the shade. She looked at me and pointed under her bed. I dove to the ground and crawled under just as Janice opened the door.

“What do you want?” said Meredith with irritation. “I was just watching TV.”

I could only see Janice’s slippered feet, but I could sense that she was looking around the room. “What was with all the banging around?” she asked.

“I got up to use the bathroom. I tripped.”

Again there was quiet I could only interpret as further surveying.

“Well, what are you doing watching television at two in the morning on a school night? Get to bed and turn it off! Do you think I can sleep through all that noise?”

“Fine,” said Meredith.

I was sweating profusely in my down coat. There were cobwebs and dust puffs brushing against my face.

“Fine is right,” said Janice. “You know your brother needs his sleep. Waking him up for no reason is just idiotic. It’s just asking for trouble. I’m trying to get him back in school. He needs to be on a regular sleeping schedule.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, read a book. Meditate.”

“I was thinking about Dad, okay?” she said.

I could tell by her emotionless tone that it was a calculated move, and it seemed to work. Janice sighed. She shuffled over and sat on the bed. The springs gave, and the extra weight nearly crushed me. “All right,” she said. She adjusted a bare foot in her slipper. “But he’s not coming back anytime soon; I take it you know that. He’s had his chances.”

“Jared misses him,” said Meredith.

“How does it help to say that?” asked Janice, raising her voice. “Tell me, please. Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

Janice took a deep breath and her voice softened.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she said. “I understand. But Jared doesn’t know the way things really were. He has a selective memory when it comes to his dad. You know that. He doesn’t remember the way he was abandoned during the . . . whole process. He doesn’t remember how hurt he was. It’s not going to help him get better to have that man in his life. That’s the hard truth.”

“So, you’re making that decision for him?”

“I don’t have to make it,” sighed Janice. “I never hear from him anymore.”

The room was so quiet, and I wondered if they would hear my breathing.