Set This House In Order Part 22

"No, that's OK. It could be a long call."

"All right," Julie said. Then she smiled. "I knew you guys would hit it off."

I tried to keep my expression neutral. But what did she mean, hit it off? Hadn't she been listening before? With the exception of a few words exchanged at work, and at lunch that first day, I hadn't even spoken to Penny herself yet.

"Don't bother trying to explain it again," Adam counseled. "Just say see you later and get out of here."

"Right," I said, picking up my jacket. "See you later, Julie." I turned, started to walk out of the apartment. . . and stopped, my hand on the door. "Julie?"

"Yeah?"

"I think it's great, you wanting to be so helpful, but. . . you do understand, right? Even if Penny does decide to, to build her own house, you won't necessarily be a part of that process. I mean, I probably won't even be a part of it, beyond introducing her to Dr. Grey. And if Penny does come to me for advice, or whatever, I may not be able to tell you about it. Not because I don't want to, but because, well. . ."

"That stuff is private." Julie nodded. "Sure, of course, I understand. No problem."

"OK," I said, not totally convinced. "OK, good. Well anyway. . ."

"Call me later if you want."

I went home and dialed Penny's number. Thread answered on the first ring. "h.e.l.lo, Mr. Gage."

"Hi." We spoke very briefly; Thread asked, right up front, if it would be all right if she and Maledicta came out to Autumn Creek to talk with me in person. I'd been halfway expecting this, and had decided that it would be OK so long as Maledicta and her twin behaved themselves. I told Thread they could come by Mrs. Winslow's anytime that afternoon. "Will Penny be coming too?"

"Oh no," said Thread, sounding surprised. "Penny still doesn't know anything about this."

At quarter to two the Buick Centurion pulled up to the curb in front of the Victorian. Mrs.

Winslow had taken a seat on the porch a few minutes earlier, after I'd told her who was coming to visit; she watched my back as I went down the front walk to the car.

Maledicta was behind the wheel, puffing on a cigarette; Thread didn't know how to drive.

"Would you like to come inside for some coffee or tea?" I asked.

Maledicta looked over at Mrs. Winslow sitting sentry on the porch. "No," she told me bluntly.

Then: "Get in the f.u.c.king car. Let's go someplace else."

I frowned at her rudeness, but then turned, nodded rea.s.suringly to Mrs. Winslow, and got in the car. "Where to?" I asked.

We ended up driving to a number of different places around town. While the car was in motion, Maledicta spoke to me; when we parked somewhere for a while, Thread took over. Between the two of them, I began to learn the answers to some of the questions Julie had been asking. Thread gave me a broad outline of Penny's history: how she'd been born in Willow Grove, Ohio, in 1971; how her father, a traveling salesman, had died in a plane crash two years later; how over the next decade and a half her mother, a crazy woman named Verna Dorset Driver, had systematically broken Penny's soul apart; how Penny had finally escaped on a scholars.h.i.+p to the University of Was.h.i.+ngton; and how her mother's death the following year had freed her for good. Like a good reporter, Thread tried to keep her account as objective as possible; though she readily described Penny's emotions, she kept her own feelings to herself, and downplayed her own role in Penny's life.

Maledicta made no attempt at objectivity. She went out of her way to share her feelings, which consisted primarily of different flavors of hate, anger, and resentment. She bragged about her own actions, saying that she'd "saved Mouse's f.u.c.king a.s.s" more times than she could remember, and that "without me and Malefica to look out for her, Mouse would be a f.u.c.king stain on the wall by now -- and it's not that the little c.u.n.t doesn't deserve it, but it's our f.u.c.king neck, too."

In addition to telling me about Penny's life, Thread and Maledicta asked questions about mine.

Thread was fascinated by the idea of the house, and wanted to hear all about the practical aspects of building and running it; Maledicta, more skeptical, wanted to know what problems to expect ("Do Malefica and I get our own f.u.c.king room?" she demanded. "What if someone acts up? How do you keep the a.s.sholes in line?"). I answered their questions as completely as I could, until finally -- it was late afternoon by this time, and I was exhausted again -- they were satisfied.

"All right," Maledicta said. "We'll do it. We'll build a f.u.c.king house."

"What about Penny?" I asked. "Will she cooperate?"

"f.u.c.king Mouse," Maledicta sneered. "Yeah, she'll go along. She f.u.c.king well better."

"But does she even know that you --"

"She knows. Enough. She pretends to herself that she doesn't, but she knows. Mouse isn't stupid, she's just a f.u.c.king coward."

"OK. But --"

"What we'll do," said Maledicta, "we'll get Mouse to come out here tomorrow, and you'll tell her what's what. And we'll make sure she f.u.c.king pays attention."

"Tomorrow," I mused, not sure I wanted to give up my entire weekend, not without being asked, at least. But whatever objections I was thinking of making were put on hold as Maledicta thumbed the b.u.t.ton on the car's cigarette lighter.

"Yeah," Maledicta said, pulling a pack of Winstons from her jacket pocket and shaking one loose. "Yeah, Mouse'll go along. We'll f.u.c.king see to it. And if she doesn't. . . if she doesn't, we'll get someone else to run the f.u.c.king show." She looked over at me. "We could do that, right?"

"I'll talk to Penny," I said, preoccupied now, waiting for the lighter b.u.t.ton to pop back out. "You get her to meet with me, and I'll do my best to help her understand what's going on."

"f.u.c.king right you will," said Maledicta.

And so the next day at noon I waited for Penny in front of the Harvest Moon Diner, trying not to laugh as Adam did Maledicta impressions: "How about this f.u.c.king weather? Pretty f.u.c.kingly clear f.u.c.king skies for f.u.c.king April, don't you f.u.c.king think?"

Then Penny arrived, and the laughs were over for a while. There's a type of protector soul, called a runner, whose function is to remove the body from threatening situations. Penny had at least two runners, and it wasn't long before I'd met both of them.

The first runner came out only moments after Penny's arrival. I don't think it was my fault; when I'd asked my father's advice about how to speak to Penny, he recommended I be direct, but he also warned me that no matter what approach I used, Penny would probably switch several times in order to avoid hearing what I had to say. "It's a terrifying thing to find out about yourself. I remember."

"But Maledicta said Penny already knows. . ."

"I'm sure Penny suspects the truth, or part of it," my father said. "That's not the same as knowing for sure. . . or being told flat out."

Thread and Maledicta had told me that they would leave Penny a message instructing her to meet with me. I decided that would be a good opener: I'd say something about the message, and segue naturally into the question of who had sent it. It was a reasonable plan, but I never made it to the segue.

As soon as I mentioned the message -- something that, from Penny's perspective, I shouldn't have known about -- Penny got scared, and out came the first runner.

This runner didn't actually run, just walked fast: ducked Penny's head down so that her chin nearly touched her chest, fixed her arms stiffly at her sides, clenched her fists, and shuffled off with surprising speed. Almost before I realized what was happening, she was out of the parking lot and scooting away up Bridge Street. I chased after her, calling Penny's name; she didn't look back, but as I came up behind her she started making a noise, a low caterwauling from deep in her throat, that caused the hairs on my arms to stand up. I wasn't the only person unnerved by that sound -- other pedestrians, hearing that caterwaul come out of Penny's mouth, hurried to make way for her.

Then I was alongside her, putting a hand on her shoulder, and the caterwaul jumped octaves, rising up into a high keening -- the sound a porcupine might make if it screamed. The keening froze me on the spot; the runner pulled free and kept moving, ducking out of sight around the next street corner.

"Don't lose her!" Adam warned.

So I took off again, following from a distance now, not wanting to hear that keening a second time. The runner was almost a block ahead of me when she went into Maynard Park, and for a moment I worried I had lost her; but when I entered the park myself, Penny's body was seated on a bench, waiting for me.

"Penny?" I said uncertainly. The runner was gone, that was obvious, but I wasn't sure what soul had taken its place.

Then Penny's face darkened in a scowl, and I knew.

"Sit down," Maledicta fumed. "We'll have her back out in a f.u.c.king minute."

I sat. The scowl disappeared, replaced by confusion, and Penny's shoulders hunched. I gave her a second to get her bearings, then started in again, commenting matter-of-factly that she'd just had a blackout, trying to make it sound like it was no big deal.

Out came another runner, this one a sprinter; it dashed off into the trees behind the bench.

"Oh boy," I sighed, getting up to follow. The direct approach wasn't working very well.

To make a long story short, I got my exercise that day. In the end, Penny did listen to everything I had to say, but only after I'd put several new miles on my sneakers, and only after Penny had nearly broken her own neck.

That evening, I called Dr. Grey's number to try to set up an appointment, but Dr. Grey wasn't available. "Danny's having a pretty bad weekend, Andrew," Meredith told me. "She hasn't been out of bed since yesterday."

"Oh no," I said. "Not. . . not because of my visit, I hope."

Rather than rea.s.sure me, Meredith simply asked: "Is there something I can help you with?" I explained why I'd called. "Uh-huh. . . well, she's definitely not going to be up to seeing anybody tomorrow. Maybe later in the week. You want to try back on Thursday or Friday?"

"OK," I said, wondering how Maledicta would feel about waiting.

On Monday morning I came into work early to talk to Julie -- and to apologize. At one point on Sunday, in between flight responses, Penny and I had b.u.mped into her on Bridge Street. It was bad timing, as Julie belatedly recognized -- even as she came running up to us, she saw the look on my face, and slowed. "Hi," she said. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. . ."

"You are," Maledicta piped up. "f.u.c.k off."

I figured Julie might still be upset about that, and I was right. I found her in one of the storage tents, digging through a carton of old printouts, and at first she wouldn't look at me, though she grudgingly acknowledged my presence. "So," she said tersely. "What's up?"

"Well, Penny has agreed to go see Dr. Grey. . ."

"I know," Julie said.

"You do?"

"Sure. That's why she called in sick today, right?"

"Penny called in sick?"

Julie finally looked up, an expression of disgust on her face. She thought I was only pretending ignorance. "You're going to tell me you didn't know?"

"No," I said. "No, I didn't know. When did she call you?"

"This morning around five-thirty," Julie told me. "Not my best time of day."

"What did she say?"

"Just that she wouldn't be coming in. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me to mind my own f.u.c.king business."

"Maledicta," I said.

"Yeah, Maledicta. What does she have against me, exactly?"

"Against you?"

"She's been openly hostile to me every time we've met."

"I think Maledicta is hostile to everyone, Julie -- even to Penny. It's her nature."

"No," Julie said, shaking her head. "With me it feels like it's personal, somehow." Her eyes narrowed. "Did you say something to her about me? Something to make her mad?"

"No," I said. "At least I don't think I did. Like what?"

"Did you tell her the only reason I hired Penny was so you could get her treatment for her MPD?"

"No! Why would I tell her that -- it's not true, right? And besides, Maledicta wants Penny to get treatment. She's more committed to the idea than Penny or even Thread at this point. So she wouldn't be mad at you for that."

"Hmmph," said Julie. "Hmmph, well. . . I suppose in one sense it's an improvement over last week, at least she called before not coming in this time. . . so she's not seeing Dr. Grey today?"

"I don't see how she could be. Dr. Grey is. . . she's not available today. If Penny called in sick, it's probably something to do with her neck."

"Her neck?"

"Penny got a pretty bad knock on the head yesterday," I explained. "I was worried that she might have given herself whiplash. And if her body is in pain, then whoever's in control of her body is in pain too, which could be why Maledicta seemed extra unfriendly."

"Oh," Julie said.

Seeing her soften a little, I took advantage of the opening: "About what happened yesterday, Julie, I'm really sorry. . . you just caught us at a bad moment."

"Sat.u.r.day too I guess, huh?"

"Sat.u.r.day?"

"Sat.u.r.day afternoon, I saw the two of you driving in town. I waved, but you ignored me."

I shook my head, and Julie lost her temper again.

"Jesus Christ, Andrew!" she exclaimed. "I saw the two of you together, don't try to tell me I didn't!"

"No, Julie, I'm not saying we weren't together, I just, I don't remember seeing you on Sat.u.r.day afternoon."

"You were looking right at me when I waved."

"Well that doesn't mean I saw you. If the car was moving, I was probably paying attention to Maledicta."

"Yeah, well, whatever," Julie said dismissively. "Never mind."

"Would you like me to call Penny and find out why she's not coming in?"

"No." Julie shook her head. "No, let's just try to get some work done today. . . however much we can get done with half the software team missing."

There were any number of tactless remarks I could have made at that point, but I wisely chose to keep my mouth shut. A little while later, though, Dennis, far less cautious than I, decided to crack wise about Penny's absence: "Gee, Commodore, that was a great idea you had about hiring a second programmer. It's only been a week and already I can't remember how we ever got by without her. . ."

Julie and Dennis were at each other's throats for the rest of the day, which at least kept Julie's attention off me. After work, though, as I was leaving the Factory, I spotted Penny's Buick idling just inside the gates, and got a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Penny?" I called, walking up to the car.

Maledicta. "f.u.c.king get in. Thread wants to ask you some more questions about the house."