implications. Moving meant there would soon be fresh air on his face, the outward swing of legs stifled too long, the joy in comparative freedom, even if it were brief, even if he were soon shoved into a car boot, a cargo of hidden, fervent fear. Even if each move so far had brought him to a place worse than the one before, closer to the chaos of Pakistan‟s border, farther from the relative civility of Kabul.
He felt his heart and breathing speed up, becoming a song. Badabumpbumpbump badabumpbumpbump badabumpbumpbump. This was what it felt like to be truly alone, even among others: one formed a tight alliance with one‟s own breath and heartbeat, finding comfort in that internal language and none other. He shifted to his knees on the way to standing.
"Zer s
ha, zer sha, zer sha." His
guard, strident, raising his voice as if saying "move it" repeatedly could improve Todd‟s speed. Keep someone isolated and largely immobile for too many days, cut his leg, batter his ribs, and you cannot expect him to be able suddenly to run. This boy, however, would not care about this.
Now the barrel of a gun was shoved in his side. Steel encouragement from another guard. It was the tall, fidgety one who‟d hurt Todd before. The dangerous one. He hadn‟t noticed that guard in the room; he‟d been standing in the shadow of a corner.
Okay then. "Okay, okay."
Don‟t think. Just move.
He rose, pulling up the pants they‟d given him, tying them tighter around his waist, which was narrowing. "Some c
hai?" he as
ked.
"No time," replied the taller one.
"Why must we move so quickly?"
No answer.
"Is there some news?"
Still no answer.
"Has anyone spoken to Clarissa?"
For this, he knew there would be no answer but he wanted to say her name aloud now. A talisman, a lucky charm.
"Zer s
ha, zer sha, zer sha," re
peated Fuzzy.
"I‟m zer s
ha-in
g," Todd said under his breath.
Another shove from the gun. "Now."
"Do I take my blanket?" Todd lifted it as he spoke. For the last two moves, he‟d been instructed to carry his bedding with him. He‟d grown fond of it.
The taller fired his gun into the wall, and Todd jumped. "Leave it. And move," he said, pointing the gun at Todd.
So this was it. They were going to kill him. With this urgency, and this guard, and no pretense even of respect or continuity, what else could it be? Todd couldn‟t speak. Maybe he should try to escape right now, an effort that of course would fail, but then perhaps they would shoot him immediately, instead of dragging this out. On the other hand, they might just beat him more. He glanced around the room, hesitating. Seeing the Bible, he tucked it under his arm.
The taller guard kept his gun trained on Todd as he stepped through the doorway, into the main room, and then out into the yard, still trying to sift his choices through his mind. Right beyond the yard stood the car, motor running.
Todd turned to the guards. "Why?" he asked, repeating it. "Why?"
Of course no one answered. The tall one used his gun to motion Todd into the car, and then threw a scratchy, heavy blanket on top of him. The driver pulled away rapidly and Todd made a silent plea:
let it be quick
. A
nd let me be brave.
Relationship to Envy
Clarissa, September 19th
"Have you read any of this?" Standing at the threshold, Ruby waved her right hand, which gripped a stack of papers.
"Come in, Ruby. Hi, Angie."
"During the lulls, I‟ve been online, googling Afghanistan, and the Taliban, and
kidnapping."
Clarissa took the printouts without looking at them. "Google turns up a lot of stories that don‟t have anything to do with Todd. I‟m trying to stay away from that."
"Well, maybe that explains some things."
"Ruby." Angie, chiding, pushed past Ruby and moved toward the kitchen. Clarissa, and then finally Ruby, followed.
"Okay, I‟m sorry," Ruby said. "I
am s
orry, Clarissa. But I‟m also so frustrated. Read the top one. In eastern Afghanistan, where Dad is, the Taliban will pay $500,000 to get their hands on a Westerner. We can‟t match that, no way. Read the one under that. Two French hikers were kidnapped in what is supposed to be a safe area. Their bullet-ridden bodies were found a couple weeks later. No demands were ever made, no claim of responsibility. Who knows who had them? It‟s beyond chaos there. We can‟t sit here waiting. We‟re up against tough odds, and they‟ve just gotten tougher."
"But we have Amin working on our behalf. And your father trusted—trusts—him." For slipping into past tense, Clarissa immediately hated herself.
"My God, Clarissa. Do we need the earth to be burning before we call in the fire department?"
"Ruby," Angie said again.
"Okay, okay." Ruby took a deep breath. "Look, we have to get on the same page
somehow. Let‟s talk to Jack."
"I‟ve never considered Jack to be my guide on how to proceed here."
"And I‟ve never considered Bill mine."
Such thick lines were being drawn. "Let‟s check in with both of them, then," Clarissa said, "now that we have new developments on the ground. Jack first?"
"Great idea," Angie said quietly.
Ruby picked up the phone, put through the call and put Jack on speaker. "I‟m here with Clarissa, Jack. We both want to talk to you in light of this latest bunch of Afghan fatalities in the east, probably near where Dad is."
"Yes, I heard," came Jack‟s disembodied voice, "Actually, I was planning on calling you. We just got word that Todd is being moved."
"Moved? What does that mean?" Ruby asked.
"We don‟t know, exactly."
"Does this mean you know where they‟ve been holding him?" Clarissa asked.
"Not precisely. No. But we‟ve been following phone communications. That‟s why we know as much as we do."
"Moved? Oh, God." Ruby sucked in her breath. Her eyes began to tear.
"Look," Jack said, "this may be nothing. He‟s been moved several times already, don‟t forget. Don‟t draw any conclusions."
Clarissa sank down into a chair as Ruby moved to the sink to get a glass of water. "You have no clues as to why?"
"None."
"Can our soldiers rescue him?" Ruby asked from the sink.
"First they have to locate him, which is harder to do while his location is shifting. But say they can find him. Does this mean we have your okay to go ahead?"
"No." Ruby spun toward Clarissa, her face a knot of fury. "Still no for now," Clarissa repeated, working to smooth her voice. "But we‟re calling Bill next. Then we‟ll get back to you. We‟ll be fast."
"Okay," Jack said. "I‟ll wait to hear from you."
Turning her back on the pressure of Ruby‟s stare, Clarissa called Bill‟s office. His
secretary said he was out. "Can you have him call me? The minute he gets in?" Clarissa replaced the receiver, her hand shaking. The phone sat on the middle of the kitchen table, a betrayal of a space that should be for family and food and convivial conversation.
Ruby circled the kitchen, caged. "I don‟t want to wait."
"We‟re waiting," Angie said, her voice cool. "Sit down, Ruby."
Ruby stared fiercely at Angie for a moment, then obeyed. The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes. "I‟ll make tea," Clarissa said finally. She rose to fill the pot, set it to boil and put fruit on the table, letting these sounds of feverish domesticity stand in for conversation.
Ruby‟s cellphone rang. She pulled it from her pocket, frowning. "I‟m going to take this upstairs."
Clarissa was relieved to have her leave the room. She lifted her cup of tea and held the warm liquid against her lips, somehow not able to swallow, trying to imagine what it was like for Todd to be moved, how precisely they accomplished it, what he felt: fear, or desperation, or confidence.
"You okay?" Angie asked.
Clarissa had almost forgotten Angie. "Oh, God, I don‟t know," she said.
"I know. I‟m sorry."
"So." Clarissa took a deep breath. "I hear you‟ve had a … a sense of what should be done?"
Angie tipped her head. "I thought you didn‟t believe in that stuff."
Clarissa smiled slightly in acknowledgement. "But I suspect your insights are as valid as any Jack is offering."
"I get all kinds of feelings, actually, and I don‟t know how to interpret them. Last week I felt Ruby‟s dad was eating a bagel. An Everything Bagel, in fact. I didn‟t tell Ruby. I know that‟s impossible."
"Yes, I think you‟re right."
"So I‟m not accurate here. But—" She hesitated. "I‟ve had some bad dreams, to tell you the truth. And then, for the last day or two, I‟ve felt better." She looked out Clarissa‟s kitchen window. "Maybe it‟s just wishful thinking."
An ambulance passed, its whine running between the brownstones of Brooklyn, sending a chill down Clarissa‟s back that she tried to ignore. "There‟s a certain power in wishful thinking," she said. "I‟ll take it, in absence of any real knowledge.‟‟
Angie reached out and touched Clarissa‟s hand. "Ruby is really a much more gentle
person than she‟s been during this period."
"Hmm. I admire much about Ruby, but gentle is not a word…"
"You know, she and her dad were together so long, just the two of them. When I moved in, at first Ruby was hard on me. I didn‟t know why, and then I realized she did not want to share her father with me. She was in charge. And she knew she was the center of her father‟s world."
"Then I came along."
"She wants to be the one who cares the most about her father."
Clarissa was moved by Angie‟s effort to navigate what little middle space remained between her and Ruby. "I get it, I do," she said. "I lost both my parents. It created a bond between my brother and me that—well, Mikey‟s still single. I waited a long time to marry. I think one of the reasons I could marry Todd was that he understood how that kind of sorrow rearranges your heart. It changes and complicates the way you love." She smoothed the wood of the kitchen table with her right hand. "I don‟t think Ruby has to be gentle. She has a certainty that, in honesty, I‟ve never really had. But what I do believe is that we‟ve made the right choices, up until now. And by that, I mean the choices Todd would have asked of us."
"You may be right. Don‟t tell Ruby I said that, though."
"Gentle Ruby?"
Angie smiled. "You both have backbone," she said. "Someday—"
Before she could finish her sentence, the phone rang. Clarissa reached to grab it, and heard Ruby moving quickly down the stairs toward the kitchen.
"Bill, hi. Thanks for calling back. We‟re afraid we have a problem. You heard about the American bomb killed all those Afghans yesterday? Now Jack says they are moving Todd and we—"
"Clarissa, Clarissa. Wait," Bill said. "What?"
"I just got off the phone with Amin, Clarissa. I have news."
Admiral's Row
Danil, September 19th
He cradled in his hand the cellphone Joni had given him. He tried to think of how he might begin the conversation. At some point, the space of silence becomes its own country with barrier fences, border patrols. He hadn‟t known it would be like this. In the beginning, when he‟d stopped contacting his mother, he thought it would be for a week or two. By now it had turned into a wide expanse that felt dangerous to cross.
On impulse, he dove his hand into the pile, pulling out a letter from somewhere in the middle. He tore open the side of the envelope and removed the page before he could think too much about it. He read, skimming, letting his eyes leap over entire sections.
"Dear Dani, Last night for dinner I made… I saw Sasha last week. She asked about you… I love you, dear son. Piotr was a hero, and I don‟t understand why you can‟t accept…"
He quickly refolded the letter and replaced it. He picked up the most recent letter and held it in his hand for a moment, wavering. On the street outside the abandoned building, a fire engine passed, honking its horn. Somewhere beyond that, a dog barked in answer. Danil felt safely contained within this crumbling room, protected from the world beyond.
He rearranged himself so that he was leaning against a solid part of the wall and opened the letter.
"Dear Dani, I wait for one of these letters to reach you. I will keep trying until I get through. I will keep repeating myself and hope one day you will get my letters, read them, and call.
"I wrote this before, but again I want to tell you that I‟m thinking of selling the shop to a woman who owns a used bookstore fifty miles away. Her store is very different from mine, of course. She has what she called an „online presence.‟ She says I could work for her half the year, so I could keep some income, but it would be a simpler, easier life. No more dashing after estate sales, stocking shelves, worrying about paying the store rent. Dani, I want to sell. Yvette is even starting to get used to it. But I won‟t sell until I hear from you; I don‟t want you to come looking and find me gone.
"I still don‟t understand the ways in which time alters our perception of life and events, how what seems so completely certain at one moment can become questionable and then false later on. It‟s as if we live under a constant delusion, and even what we discover to be truth is only another temporary delusion. Over and over again I get fooled; I believe in absolutes, I accept what I‟m told. Perhaps this comes from a childhood in the Soviet Union. Perhaps it is simply my personal temperament.