The Wall (The Woodlands) (30 page)

Matthew looked at the ground and stared at his canvas shoes
, lifting his toes up in them, rocking his feet back and forth.  “Have you ever noticed that Gus and Cal look very similar?”

I didn
’t see what this had to do with anything. “Yes, Cal is Gus’s son; they’re bound to look similar.” Picturing Cal, his features, the ears poking out, the hard, sticky glare, made me cold. Remembering the way his eyes razed the room and darkened the air stunned my body and I twitched, my shoulders shaking violently.

“
No,” Matthew said, shaking his head. “Cal is Gus.”

I searched people
’s eyes. They looked surprised but less so than myself. Having the science background helped them come to the answer a lot quicker than me. I went through ridiculous possibilities like Gus dressed as Cal, or Cal with a fake beard masquerading as Gus. But I had seen them together. Was there two of them, twins? How was that possible when one was much older than the other? Cal called Gus Dad. I already had a headache but this made it so much worse. I had double vision and was picturing two Cal’s coming at me, laughing hysterically and calling me darling.

Matthew explained it
as simply as he could: The Survivor’s had come at their infertility problem from a different angle than the Woodlands. During one of their scavenging hunts, they found a clinic in one of the main cities in China. It was a research lab, filled with partial notes and equipment. It seemed like they were attempting something—some sort of mass-produced army. Matthew thought their work was complete. It was a stupid assumption. Really, they had no idea where in the cloning process they were before the bombing, or how safe it was. But the Survivors decided to risk it. Take the technology and try to make some babies. Ten families volunteered. They made a clone of the mother and the father.

“
If that’s true, where are all these kids? There should be twenty young people here—why is there only Cal?” It didn’t make any sense and the words were starting to swish around in my brain like old dishwater. My hands searched out for something that wasn’t there and then grasped a knot of sheet and squeezed it tight in my splintered fingers. Where was Joseph? I needed him here with me.

Matthew
’s face was pained. Deshi put a hand on his shoulder. “Let him finish, Rosa.”

Matthew continued
talking, “Everything went well, in the beginning…” he said in that hopeless kind of voice, the one where you wish things were different. “But there were holes in the instructions, in their research.” It switched to pleading. “I thought I could do it, come up with the necessary growth hormones on my own, but I was arrogant. Truth is, I was stupid and desperate. I wanted a child of my own and I let that desire lead me.” Now, justification… and this is where he lost me for a while. The scientific terms were whacking me on the head like the lashes I used to receive at school.

“
The children grew normally at first and we thought it had been a success,” Matthew continued, his voice high. Everyone was looking at their feet. “I was thrilled… the parents were happy. There were children in the community for the first time in years.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t last,” I said darkly.

“
Rosa!” Deshi snapped.

“
No, no she’s right. Those hormones, what I created, caused the growth of other things. Tumors.” His hands were so tightly clasped, they were white. “I tried to fight the cancers but they were aggressive. They all died,” Matthew said, his voice cracking at the end. “Cal was my one success. I don’t know what happened. He was tumor free at his last check six months ago.”

I cut him off,
“So Cal’s sick. I don’t see what that has to do with my attack. Are you trying to make me feel sorry for him?” The whole story was wearing me down.

“
Cal has a tumor in his brain, in his frontal lobe.
The frontal lobes have been found to play a part in impulse control, judgment, sexual behavior, socialization, and spontaneity,” Matthew said, like he was quoting a textbook. A disconnect he needed.

“
What are you saying?” I asked. “Are you saying he couldn’t help it, that it wasn’t his fault?”

“
No, not exactly, but even though he knew what he was doing was wrong, he couldn’t stop himself. He feels terrible, Rosa, just terrible.” I didn’t want to hear that he felt bad. My head felt like it was going to explode.

“
Oh my God, stop talking, just stop. I don’t want to know anymore.” I put my hands to my ears. “Please, get out.” I felt like I was slamming my head against a wall, over and over.
Someone listen to me. Look at me. Stop lying to me. Please.

Matthew slumped out of his chair and turned to walk away, his face so downcast he was nearly doubled over.
“Wait,” I said.

“
Yes,” he barely whispered. There was no hope in his voice at all.

That thought, it wouldn
’t let me go. “I want to go back and get my mother.”

Every time I said
it, my resolve grew stronger. The words were a march I was already part of. I would never let it go.

Matthew
nodded and walked away as Joseph passed him without acknowledging his presence. His fierce green eyes were on me.

When Matthew was out of
sight, I turned my attention to Addy. “Did you know about this?” I asked accusingly. The others stared around the room, trying not to get caught in the searing waves of heat that were coming from my eyes. I didn’t care if she was old.

She nodded.

I glared at her, hoping her loose face would join her body and melt into a puddle.

She reacted immediately, not shying away from my glare
—she met it. “It is not your right to know anything and everything about everyone. You are new here so I’ll cut
you some slack.” She stared me down, daring me to respond. I found I couldn’t. “This was not my pain to share. These were families that lost children.” She huffed and her face softened. “We are on your side. But we all have our own tragedies to deal with. You need to try and understand that.”

I blinked slowly, unused to being talked to like that. I wasn
’t sure if she was right but I felt bad for upsetting her so I left it alone. I was suddenly so weary. The tumult of information had run right over me like an avalanche and now I lay bruised and battered under meters of snow. But I was still doggedly and exhaustedly trying to tunnel my way out to make some sense of what just happened.

I put my hand
s to my hair and moaned. My head felt like it was splitting open.

Apella
stood protectively between Addy and me and told everyone to leave in a sliced-back tone I didn’t recognize. I needed to rest. The last thing I saw was a needle being pushed into my IV and Joseph’s sad, sad face sliding together with my son’s smiling one.

I sat in the hospital bed for
three days, going crazy. People were around me all the time and I hated it. I hated the look in their eyes, the way they recoiled when they saw my bruises, the way they rushed to my side every time I swayed. I hated it. But more than anything else, I hated what it had done to Joseph. He just didn’t know what to do with himself. He would reach out to touch me, and then his hands would wither away before they got to me like a leaf under a blowtorch. He blamed himself. He wanted to fix it but he couldn’t. You couldn’t fix something like this.

Careen was the only one who didn
’t treat me like I was made of glass. She told me plainly that my face looked horrible, that my hair would grow back, and that if I wanted, she would step on my attacker’s neck and crush his windpipe. But I wouldn’t tell her who did it. We kept it quiet. The revelations that Cal was dying complicated our feelings and no one felt the need for outright retribution.

And all the
while, that thought never went away.
I want to go back and get my mother.

I said it so many
times, I think they thought it’s all I could say. But no one listened. No one took me seriously. They thought I’d let it go.

“
Can this come out now?” I asked, holding up my hand, which was still punctured with an IV needle connected to a bag. I wriggled it and pulled at the bag, knowing full well I wasn’t supposed to. I wasn’t a very good patient.

Joseph nodded
and stood to leave. “I’ll go get the nurse.”

“
No, you do it,” I said, holding it under his nose, feeling like I wanted to jam it in his face just to force him to touch me. His behavior had been frustrating and confusing. It seemed like he was always arguing with himself about what he should do and then he sat on his hands and did nothing.

“
Um, I don’t know, Rosa,” he said reluctantly.

“
Joseph, will you look at me?” I tried to catch his eyes. He looked up and it knocked me down. So sad, so loving, so much.

“
I’m fine,” I said finitely. “I’m the same person and you need to get that in your head.”

“
But, but he could have… I should have been there.” He sighed deeply. How could I make him understand?

I held his gaze, feeling the warm blush only he could create.
“I have changed.” He eyes were full of sorrow. “Becoming a mother changed me. Fall… falling in love changed me. But this? This will not change me. Ok?”

His shoulders relaxed a little
but I knew he only half-believed me. “Ok.”

I smiled
. “I’m serious! Stop treating me like I’m going to dissolve into tears and screaming. I need you to believe it.”

My wrist was shaking from holding it up for so long and he clasped it between his palms. I exhaled
, letting out days of pain and fear. This is where I was supposed to be. “Please. Kiss me?” I whispered, not meaning to plead.

He raised an eyebrow and let out a small chuckle. Leaning in
, he moved so damn slow I nearly collided with his face in my own haste. Our lips touched and everything did melt away. If there were people in the room, they were flung from the floor and out the window. They were shadows cast from golden light. Everything stretched and bent around us. This was home. Wherever we were, we could take this with us.

Again, like some aggravated prisoner in a cage
, my brain rattled inside my head. I put my hand to my forehead. “Ah.”

“
Are you ok?” Joseph asked before the sigh had left my lips.

“
I’m fine. It’s just…”

“
I know, I know. You want to go back and get your mother, right?”

“
How did you know I was going to say that?” I asked, irritated by his assumption… even if it was right. My head pulsed and throbbed, nodding vigorously inside and out of time with the rest of me.

His eyes crinkled and he rubbed his forehead
. “You even say it in your sleep. You scrunch up your face like that and you say it, over and over. Rosa, you can’t, you know? You’re not well enough and it’s too dangerous.”

I started to argue but
bit down on my lip before I said something stupid. Besides, I knew I was talking to the wrong person. It wasn’t up to Joseph. I knew whom I needed to talk to.

I frowned
and wiggled my languid, skinny arm in front of him, “Just take this out, please.”