S. Bodeen - The Compound

It didn’t seem right, to be a witness. I felt invasive, like an intruder.

Back in the hall, I gently pulled the door shut and left.

Maybe that was when Lexie let it all out. She watched A Little Princess , the one happy ending she allowed herself.

Who else was there for me to turn to?

I couldn’t tell Mom. Not yet. She was already stressed out, pregnant. And I wasn’t sure she’d believe me. Even if she did, it was way too risky for her to confront my father. She was in no condition for it. And did she even have a foothold with him anymore?

Maybe if I had found this out years ago. When they were in love. When he still doted on her. Not at this point. They scarcely spoke.

I didn’t understand how he could do this to us, the people he was supposed to love the most. When did he start hating us? Because he must have hated us, if he could even consider doing this. It was the only explanation I had that made sense.

There was a slim chance he had confided in Mom at some point, told her something that might help.

I felt so stupid for waiting so long to question things.

For being this much of a sheep.

Listening to everything Dad said.

Believing him.

Worshipping him.

No more. No way.

I was done.

SLEEP ELUDED ME. I SPENT MOST OF THE NIGHT STARING UP into the starry sky of my ceiling, trying to come up with answers. But in all that sleeplessness I made a decision. A decision to seek the answers I needed.

The next morning, I found Mom in the family room, knitting another pink and blue blanket. Candles glowed. The scent of flowers lingered. Music played on the stereo, a sonata for cello and piano—Shostokavich.

I sat down on a couch opposite her. The soft, familiar brush of my hair falling on either side of my face gave me strength, but it still took a minute to get the words out. “Mom, do you know the code to the door?”

Her knitting needles froze as she stared at me. “How do you know about that?”

“Dad told me.”

Her hands dropped to her lap, the ball of pink yarn unrolling onto the floor. She seemed annoyed. “Now why in the world would he tell you that?”

I explained. And then I asked again. “Do you know the code to the door?”

She harrumphed. (I think that’s what the sound would be called. Like a sarcastic cough.) “Right. That’s only in your father’s mind. And probably in his office.”

“Do you know where?”

She started knitting again, her stitches quick and precise. “Probably in one of his computers.”

I leaned my head back on the couch, trying to think. “Mom, what if something happens to him? How would we get out?”

She set down her knitting. “Don’t talk like that. Nothing’s going to happen to your father, Eli. He’s as healthy as a horse.” Her tone was not one of certainty and her words were rushed.

“Mom?”

She shook her head a bit. “He’s healthier than a horse, probably. And if he thought he was going to die, God forbid, he’d tell me everything.”

Somehow I doubted it. “Would he?”

Her brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

My eyes shut briefly. I rubbed my temples, trying to summon more energy. “Mom, I found something out last night. Something you might not believe.”

“Tell me.”

My explanation included everything about the laptop from Eddy’s room and its wireless capability. I paused for a moment before getting to the crucial element.

“Mom, I talked to Eddy.”

Her knitting slid to the floor. “You what?”

“The Internet works. I IM’ed Eddy. And Gram. Dad’s been lying to us since we got here.” I related everything Eddy and Gram had to say.

Mom just sat there, mouth gaping.

I needed her to trust me. “Please say you believe me.”

Her face crumpled. I knew for certain, then and there, that she truly had no idea what Dad had done. She started to cry.

“Please, Mom.”

She nodded, reaching out for my hand. I didn’t move.

Her hand dropped in her lap. When she could speak again, she had a lot of questions.

I answered the ones I could. There were many that I couldn’t.

“Eli, we have got to go to your father and tell him it’s over. We know and we’re leaving.”

I stood up and started to pace in front of the fireplace. “Do you think it’s that easy? He’ll just throw up his hands and say, ‘You got me,’ and then let us go?”

Her head was down. “No. It won’t be that easy.”

“He’s insane.”

“Eli, he’s not insane.”

I protested, telling her what Eddy had said about Dad’s biological mother.

Mom shook her head. “It’s not true. That’s an old rumor, one I even approached your father about before you were born. He found out who his biological parents were a long time ago.”

“And?”

“A couple of academically inclined teenagers too stupid to use birth control. And too young and full of potential to give it all up to raise a baby. No one was crazy.”

I was frustrated at not getting my point across. “Mom. Look at the facts. Dad doesn’t sleep for days, then that’s all he does.”

Mom shrugged. “I don’t think that’s an uncommon thing with creative geniuses. And it’s not enough to make him certifiable.”

I groaned and covered my face with my hands.

“Eli. I would love to say yes, that he’s insane. But that’s simply too easy. And safe. How convenient would that be? To explain it away to lunacy?” Her head tilted to one side. “He was lucid when he planned all this. He’s still lucid. That’s what scares me.”

I dropped my hands to look at her.

She turned toward me, her face red and tear streaked. “Yes, I’m scared. I said it. We’re in more danger now than we ever have been, Eli. If he knows we know, he may get desperate. I don’t believe he’s crazy, but he’s capable of doing something… something irrational.”

I held my arms out to the sides. “More irrational than all of this? More irrational than every moment of the last six years?”

Her expression wasn’t quite a smile. “You have a point, my boy.” She gasped. “Oh!”

“You okay?”

Her hands went to her bump. “The baby’s kicking all the time. Whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it fast. I refuse to have another of my children born in this godforsaken place. We need to see what we can find out without your father suspecting we’re fishing around. So let’s keep it between us. I don’t think you should tell Lexie or Terese.”

“Tell me what?” Lexie stepped inside the room. She looked fresh in yellow, her dark hair cascading loose.

“Nothing, sweetie.”

“Right.” Lexie sunk into the love seat opposite of us. “I heard you say, ‘Don’t tell Lexie or Terese.’”

I leaned against the mantel. I should have told her what I knew last night. “Now is not the time for this, okay? Just trust me. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Lexie crossed her arms, glaring at Mom. “I know there are a billion things you’re keeping from me. Tell me.”

“Lex—”

“Eli!” She nearly snarled at me. “Stay out of it. Mom, tell me. Tell me what you don’t want me to know.”

“Sweetie, it’s about the code.”

“What code?”

“For the door. We were talking about the code and that only your father knows what it is.”

Lexie rolled her eyes. “What’s the big secret?”

Mom held out a hand to Lexie. “We didn’t want you to worry about it. Please don’t tell Terese, okay?”