Jodi Compton - Sympathy Between Humans

“I’m in awe,” I said. “When do you run for the state legislature?”

Marlinchen laughed, pleased. “All of this is thanks to you,” she said. “Do you want to come in and join us? We’ve got plenty of food to share.”

“No,” I said. “No, that’s all right.”

“Are you sure?” Marlinchen said.

They were obviously halfway through their dinner already, but that was only partly the root of my refusal. Something about the scene- the family together, the way Hugh watched me silently from his place at the head of the table… Things had changed. The circle had closed, and I was an outsider.

“I’m sure,” I said. “Thanks for the offer.”

“Well, thanks for coming by,” Marlinchen said. “Really, I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done.”

It was impossible to miss the note of valediction in her voice. It’s been great knowing you, it said.

Gravel crunchedunder my boots as I walked not to my car but toward the detached garage, the current living quarters of Aidan Hennessy.

I wished I fully understood my discomfort with Hugh. I’d spent plenty of time around individuals who had done a lot worse than mistreat their children. Why, then, did Hugh’s baleful blue gaze have such an effect on me? It was as if he knew what I knew about him. I had to be imagining it, I thought, the idea that his cold stare said, My family is none of your business. Leave us alone. The past is the past.

The door to the garage was open. I knocked on the frame and looked inside. What I saw surprised me. Aidan was working on the old BMW. Its hood was raised, and a drop light glowed over the engine. He looked up at the sound of my knock.

“Happy birthday,” I said.

“Hey,” he said. “Come on in.”

I did. “What are you doing, there?” I asked him.

“This is the ultimate project car,” Aidan said, looking not unhappy at the challenge. “It hasn’t been run in fourteen years.”

“Fourteen?” I repeated.

“That’s what Linch says. She’s got access to all Hugh’s records.” He ran a hand along the roof. “I may be in over my head. I’m going to have to drain the fuel line. I can’t even list it all yet, everything it’s going to need.” He shrugged. “But what a great car it’ll make for Marlinchen, when it’s finally done. She hates that Suburban.”

I peered through a window at the interior, just as I’d done the night of Aidan’s return, when I’d checked out the property.

“It’s fairly clean inside,” he said. “Except the spiderwebs.”

He was right. I saw nothing unusual, the leather seats not torn or damaged.

“Where’d you learn mechanics?” I asked.

“I was always interested in cars,” Aidan said. “Most of it, though, I learned in Georgia. Pete had farm equipment, and an old truck I used to work on.”

“Useful skill,” I said. “But it might be better for you to buy a secondhand car that runs, rather than count on fully rehabbing this one.”

“Maybe,” he said. Straightening, Aidan went to a nearby shelf. Among the tools lay his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He took one out, flicked the lighter, and ignited the slender white cylinder.

I took the opportunity to look around. The setup inside the garage had changed. At the far end, Colm’s heavy bag still hung from the rafters, but the weight bench had been moved out to make room for a cot, which was covered with a motley assortment of blankets. Nearby, a cardboard chest of drawers had been set up, with a single photograph in a frame atop it. Overhead, a bare bulb illuminated the whole place.

“Does it bother you,” I asked Aidan, “being exiled out here?”

Aidan hesitated before speaking. “Hugh gets kind of weird when he sees me. Like he did at the hospital,” he said. “Otherwise, no; I like having my own space. Don’t forget, it was me who didn’t want to spend a lot of time around him.” Aidan tapped ash into a Mason-jar lid he was using for an ashtray. “Besides, it’s not like I can’t be in the house. I just have to stay downstairs. Hugh doesn’t do the stairs very well with his cane, so he’s going to be upstairs a lot. At least for a while.”

“I see,” I said.

It was hardly an ideal arrangement, but more and more I was coming to understand what Judge Henderson had told me: you can’t dictate how families order their affairs, or run their lives.

The framed photo on the dresser caught my eye; I gave it a closer look. In it, Elisabeth Hennessy sat under her magnolia tree, holding a boy of about two or three on her lap. His hair was lighter even than hers, and I doubted very much he was Liam or Colm.

“Is that you with your mother?” I asked him.

“Yes,” Aidan said.

“It’s the photo you and your dad fought about?” I asked.

“Yeah, it is,” he said.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” I said, “where’d you hide it, that Hugh never found it?”

Aidan smiled. “With Aunt Brigitte,” he said. “I mailed it to her that same day, and she held on to it for me.”

He’d carried it with him thereafter, even on the streets as a runaway. His reverence for his mother was palpable, and I thought that Hugh had been perceptive, if cruel, the day he’d banished Aidan from a visit to Elisabeth’s grave.

“Your mother’s birthday is coming up, isn’t it?” I said. The kids had mentioned it, the last time I’d eaten dinner with them.

Aidan nodded. “Sunday,” he said. “We’re probably all going out there.”

Taking out my billfold, I fished my card from it. “Listen, I’ve got to go,” I said. “I know Marlinchen has these phone numbers, but now you’ll have them too, in case you ever need anything.”

“You’re not going to be around anymore?” Aidan asked.

I smiled ruefully. “I seem to have become obsolete.”

And indeed, as I pulled down the long driveway, I watched the old weather-beaten house fall away in my rearview mirror as if it were for the last time.

But whenI slept that night, I dreamed that Hennepin County had put Hugh Hennessy on trial, on the condition that I would be his prosecutor. In court, I stood to do my cross-examination.

Mr. Hennessy, I said, please tell the court what happened in your study on the night in question.

I saw a pair of crows, Hugh said.

That wasn’t the response I’d expected. Could you please restate your answer? I said.

Lightning struck the house, he said.

Someone among the spectators snickered. The judge said, Control your witness, Counsel.

But Hugh would not stop. It was a pit bull, he said. I saw a pair of crows. Lightning struck the house. I saw a pair of crows. I saw a pair of crows. I saw a pair of crows.

At the cemeterywhere the Hennessy children’s mother was buried, a marble angel stood guard over the headstone, either serenely reflecting or grieving. Below, the stone read, Elisabeth Hannelore Hennessy, Beloved Wife and Mother .

It was a bright Sunday afternoon, and I was sitting at the graveyard’s highest point, a mausoleum with a half flight of stone stairs leading up to it. Two pine trees offered shade from the western sun, and it was here that I’d staked out a spot to watch Elisabeth’s grave and wait for the visitor I hoped was coming on the anniversary of her birth.

For the past two days, I’d tried to put the Hennessys out of my mind. Early on, when Marlinchen had come to visit me, asking for help I’d thought I couldn’t provide, all I’d wanted was to be shed of these people. Now Marlinchen, the official head of her household, had given me leave to forget about them, and I couldn’t. I was maddened by a contradiction that I couldn’t resolve.