13. Grim
"Language, Harrison! Keep calm."
"I can't!"
"You'll get calm, eventually. All we should do is bring this eventuality closer, don't you think?"
We were back at the motel, thankfully. I was sitting in the armchair, Harrison was pacing the narrow space from the front door to the bathroom with nervous half-leaps.
"Calm down and tell me everything," I said again. "There's time before my hospital checkup, let's put this time to good use."
Unlike Harrison the First, this one, when aggrieved, seemed much less reserved in his emotional manifestations. Through the conversation, I had to fill in the gaps, guess some details, and make sense out of his generally discursive, fitful story. The kid was sitting in the corner now, ruffled as a sparrow, but quiet at least; and I was thinking hard of what I've gathered from the tale.
The tale was… grim.
After Harrison was sent from Argentina back to the US, he went through a string of shelters; teenagers aren't 'cute', they are rarely adopted, and he did not really seek adoption. Florida, Georgia, Missouri, Nebraska… New places, new faces, lots of people you won't be able to make friends with.
Then in some Catholic shelter service in Denver, he met a girl, Maureen Grace Jung, a year younger than him. They fell in love, started making plans. Emancipation, college, living together somewhere warm, cozy, and simple. Harrison told it in different words maybe, but he sounded sincere.
A new boy came to the shelter. His name was Jacob Broussard. Older, more experienced, more street-smart. More assertive too. Jacob was good at making friends, duck-to-water kind of guy.
Naturally, all three became pals. Harrison told me he knew Jacob has some violent tendencies, but having an aggressive friend could seem beneficial at 16, especially when you're largely alone, in a not-so-pleasant environment. They shared stories of their lives as they stood back to back against the world. Harrison was making most of the sharing, it seems, Jacob listened.
I asked if Harrison had shown this boy the photo of me. Just as I expected: he had. Why hide information from your only friend?.. Yes, he told Jacob everything he remembered about his past life.
Even false happiness is fleeting. You can guess what happened next.
Jacob started making passes at Maureen. She told Harrison. He demanded answers from Jacob.
"That is what you think of me?.." Jacob answered, and Harrison felt ashamed for thinking badly of his only friend.
But the harassment continued. Maureen, a shy and delicate girl, complained more and more. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Jacob to manipulate Harrison. Appeals to the guardians did not bring any fruits, the Board was only interested in silence. Maureen was about to go to the police.
And then she disappeared. The search was only nominal and did not bring results. She was deemed yet another runaway.
Jacob was interrogated briefly by the police, yes, but he knew how to communicate with the authorities, and in the absence of the victim's body, no one was going to open a real case.
Until they've found the body, in a steam heating well in uptown Denver. The scull was fractured, the corpse was disfigured almost to the bones by the heat, the possible evidence destroyed by boiling water. Enough genetic material to identify Maureen, but not the murderer who threw her down the manhole.
'Fall accident', they declared.
When Harrison learned of the tragedy and, in a blind rage, was about to confront Jacob, it turned out that the older boy disappeared from the shelter, too, stealing Harrison's rucksack with cash money and personal memorabilia.
[***]
I've heard my share of grim. And I've seen. And even participated in quite a few. This particular tale shouldn't have hit me hard. But it did, because it was my son's one.
Whimper-whimper, Big Brother. You've always been a sucker for pitiful stories.
Don't be such a cynic, Deb. Everything he's told is plausible.
Plausible doesn't mean true.
It's ordinary enough to be true. Why would he lie?
I don't know, why do people lie? To get something out of my doofus brother?
Stop it. I need to think.
"So you knew him, Dad?" Harrison asked. "He was in Iron Lake, was he there for you?"
"Yes," I said slowly. "He was there. He said he's my son. He said he's you: Harrison Morgan."
"That dick!.."
"Language."
"Yeah, language… And you've believed him? Why?!"
Good question. Too bad I'm not likely to come up with a smart answer quickly.
"I don't know, son. Why wouldn't I? He knew things, he showed the photo…"
Harrison was sitting on the bed, covering his head with his hands, and, as far as I could hear, even moaned softly.
How theatrical.
Shh, Deb. That guy, Jacob Broussard, stole his belongings, stole the love of his life…
Allegedly.
…And now it turns out he also stole the identity. Not to mention the fatherly love, which the real Harrison clearly lacked. He has every right to feel what he feels now.
"I thought I've lost you for good, son," I said. "Long ago, I've resigned myself to the fact that you are no more. All those years, living with the pain… When this guy, Jacob, suddenly appears on my doorstep, with all these… how was I supposed to react?"
Yeah, how? You're supposed to be the smart one. Hey, blood guy, did you even bother to check that this strange kidwho broke into your house is really your relative?
I had no means, Deb! I missed my lab, I missed my…
We Morgans always miss something. Our father Harry missed good old justice, as he understood it. Debra missed his attention, so much that it made her desperate for anybody's attention, anybody's love.
And I… Do I miss my humanity, the one lost in that container filled with blood? Is that why I was ready to let Harrison the First into my life so easily, to fill the emptiness I'm holding inside myself?
Am I making the same mistake right now?..
Well, it'll be pretty easy to make sure this time. All I need is a lab and a certain amount of biomaterial. If I only had a drop of Harrison the First's blood back then…
Enter the Doofus.
Oh crap. Deb's right: I think I have a pretty solid idea of where to get a sample of his fluids.
[***]
Idleness is the best companion of despair. To make sure Harrison won't dwell too much on his past troubles, I've engaged him as my personal chauffeur.
"You drop me here," I said as we turned off the Shaker. "It won't take long, an hour tops. Oh, while I'm here, could you maybe find a store and buy me a pair of carpal expanders? Not too pro, I mean, just need to work on my upper body. And nothing fancy, cheap ones please. Okay, soon."
"You've my cell? Just in case, Dad."
"Sure have!" I answered with a spirited smile, and walked towards the entrance to the Albany Memorial.
Lucy was off duty today, and I was not too upset by the fact: the events of the last day demanded too much of my attention already. Straight into the hands of the Aesculapius! I thought.
And were those hands gentle and capable. Doctor Stewart said I'm doing really well, considering the circumstances, no need for additional medication. He even cleared me to drive on my own, which was exactly what I needed now. My next hospital appointment was scheduled for the day after tomorrow, so I was about to take a little trip.
The rest of the day passed in peace. We went back to the motel, had some mashed potatoes with Shokoshakes at the same familiar restaurant. Then I called West Albany High and booked Harrison in for his tomorrow grading testing. Was he thrilled? Let me leave this question to your imagination.
[***]
"College," I reminded. "Career. Family. Good, normal life. You can't have it without education."
"Maybe I don't want it. Maybe I…"
"Or maybe you do, but you haven't figured it out yet. And when you'll have, it'll be too late to change things, because you were too lazy for this test today."
"Yeah, sick. So, this Headmistress chick wants me to…"
"Miss Glasson's the name. Be polite to her, try to pass as many tests today as you can, okay? It is unlikely that you will study at this particular school, but I need to know your grade in order to make any further choices."
I also need you to stay in the classroom for as long as possible today. Don't worry, kid, I've arranged with the Headmistress to feed you.
"I'll try," he said with an expression of otherworldly boredom on his face.
"Your pen? Your spare pen? Your cell's charged? They won't let you use it unless in emergency, so… Ah, who I'm kidding, you'll manage great, son."
Am I not a completely normal, perfectly boring dad?.. I felt kind of proud. Though I'm sure pride will turn into burning remorse when this Harrison turns out to be the real one.
Anyway, I'd rather burn than get burned… God, I'm becoming Masuka!
With that encouraging and at the same time terrifying thought, I waved to Harrison, raised the side window, and pulled out of the school parking lot onto the Mason Street overpass.
The day wasn't getting any younger, and I couldn't wait to see Iron Lake again.
