S. Bodeen - The Compound

“Hello . Eli. We’re not all on the same side.” Lexie launched herself off the stool. “You think you’re better than me, that you’re smarter. In the old world you—” She stopped.

The look on her face made me curious. “What?”

She blew out a big breath. “You were such a brat. You never cared about anybody. You got away with it because you had Eddy. You had your own little wonderful world with your twin always there for you. You never knew what it was like to be lonely.”

As I chewed, I thought about it. She wasn’t wrong.

Her eyes narrowed. “You know what it was like for me?”

Some salsa dripped down my chin. I wiped it off with a paper napkin.

“Of course not, because you never cared enough to ask. At school, everyone was my friend because of who I was, how much money we had. I never really knew if any of my friends liked me for me. You never had to worry about that, because you always had Eddy.”

I crumpled the napkin, dropping it on my plate. “Not anymore.”

“Exactly.” Her words were biting. “Poor Eli, now you’re in the same boat as the rest of us. Guess what. You don’t want to hear it, but you’re like me. And me and you? We’re just like Dad. We don’t care about other people and we’re only out for ourselves.”

I pushed away my empty plate. “That’s a load of bull.”

“It’s true, you know it. Terese is just like Mom. She’s a weird little kid, but she cares about other people. Like Eddy did. That’s why Mom and Terese allow themselves to love the Supplements. Because there is no way they would ever… ever… ever use them for their intended purpose.” She paused. “But you and me? Hell no. I do my work there, and then leave. You stay away completely.”

“Dad says it’s women’s work.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t blame it on him.”

I rolled my eyes. Then who was I supposed to blame?

“You stay away.” She leaned closer. “Know why? Because you know, deep down, if it comes down to starving, we will… do what we need to do.” She jabbed her finger in the air toward me. “The problem is you’re deluded. You think you’re with Mom and Terese on this one. You aren’t. And the day will come when you have to pick a side.” Lexie reached toward me.

I jumped back.

She laughed. “Freak.” She turned on her heel and walked out, leaving her dishes.

She was wrong.

I hoped she was wrong, anyway. Wrong about me and Dad. Even if I was like Dad. He was brilliant. But was he a good man?

I picked up Lexie’s dishes and put them in the dishwasher with mine. I wiped up some salsa that had spilled on the counter. Without all the kitchen staff we were used to, I’d learned to clean up after myself. Hated it at first, wondered why that couldn’t be women’s work, too, but I’d once read that it only takes twenty days to create a new habit. And I’d had way more than that to change my ways.

Dad came in, holding a book and awkwardly scratching his right arm. “You already have lunch?”

“Yeah.”

Dad sat down and started to read. He looked as if he’d be there for a while.

I hoped so. I wanted to see if the Internet was up. I stopped by my room to grab Eddy’s laptop. I jogged over to Dad’s office. I sat down in the hallway cross-legged, and hit the laptop’s power button. I tapped my leg with the back of my hand. Come on, come on .

And there it was.

Wireless Network Not Available.

“What? No. No. No.” I was right next to the office door. Same spot I was the last time. What was different? Dad. The last time Dad had been in his office. Did he only have it flipped on when he was in there? Just in case someone wandered down the hall with a laptop?

I sat up straight.

That was exactly it.

He couldn’t keep the wireless signal from going out in the hall. It was easier to keep people out of the hall.

And easier still to keep Internet capability off of the computers .

My hands tightened on the laptop, which had just become the most crucial item in my possession.

Until I got a chance to connect to the Internet, until I knew what was really going on, one thing was for sure. I would have to keep my dad from finding it.

THAT NIGHT I DREAMED OF TURDUCKENS. SUCCULENT ROWS of them, lined up side by side on the banquet table in the ballroom in our Seattle house.

The glowing amber digits on my clock proclaimed 4:13 A.M. when I woke up, my appetite tortured. Lying there and reminiscing made it a thousand times worse. But it felt impossible to move as the memory rushed back.

Eddy and I were nine. Dad ordered a dozen turduckens to feed the guests at our annual Christmas Eve dinner. Christmas mornings were just for family. But the night before was reserved for the hordes of people Dad had worked with over the year. And, being a Rex Yanakakis shindig, the main course had to be something unusual. No run-of-the-mill turkey or ham or goose for my father.

So turduckens it was.

What is a turducken? An exclusive culinary creation available by special order from some little Cajun town down South. Entirely deboned, a turducken consists of a turkey, stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a chicken, like an edible Russian nesting doll. Some were stuffed with alligator, crab, shrimp; my favorite was the traditional cornbread variety.

That Christmas Eve, Dad oversaw the kitchen staff himself, making sure everything was perfect. Dressed in tuxedos, Eddy and I stood at the door along with Lexie, who wore a floor-length green velvet dress. With practiced smiles on our faces, we stood there, waiting to greet the guests. We heard the vehicles as they drove in, idling near the front door while the valets hired for the evening helped the guests out before relieving them of their cars.

The guests entered through an awning and red carpet set up for the evening. After they gushed over us for a moment or two, they handed off their coats to the servants. Then they were checked off the list which, I suspected, read like a who’s who of anyone of any technological and scientific importance within a hundred-mile radius of the Space Needle. My mom loved causes, especially the ones that aimed to save the environment or children in developing countries, and was on the board of many charitable organizations. So the other half of the list most likely was a who’s who of prominent local activists.

With all the activists and scientists, many of whom were probably animal-rights people, there must have been plenty of vegetarians in the room. There was no way to tell simply by looking which faction any of them might have belonged to. This was the party of the season, and everyone was in tuxes or long evening wear, mingling around, holding their drinks until a tinkling bell signaled it was time to gather around the overflowing buffet table.

The three of us lined up next to Mom, who wore a red velvet ball gown and held Terese, who wore a smaller version. First Dad made a short speech, thanking everyone for being there. Kind of pointless, in my opinion, since people would have paid good money to attend that function.

The tradition held that Dad was to carve and present the first few servings. So, as Dad sliced with a flourish into the turducken, revealing the layers of varying shades of poultry, the room was still. Except for the enthusiastic and merry orchestra playing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”

The smells of the trinity of poultry mingled with the rest of the feast, creating a tantalizing aroma. Thinking about it so many years later, I had to smile as I thought about what might have been going through people’s heads as they lined up.