James Smythe: No Harm Can Come to a Good Man

Alyx seems fine, but they know that she is not; not quite. She talks to the therapist and sometime Deanna goes along and watches through the false mirror in the room that they use. Alyx talks about anything but Sean: even when pushed, it’s as if there’s a gap there, where she doesn’t know what’s wrong and why she should be talking about him. The therapist sometimes leads her into those conversations, but it’s always stilted, and Alyx is always unwilling to give anything up. One day they leave her alone in the office and Alyx doesn’t know that she’s being watched. The therapist and Deanna talk in the little room, Alyx playing behind them, past the mirror, and she talks to him. She says his name and she holds something out, a toy pony, and then she shakes her head. She agrees with the nothingness: it’s not the right pony. In the little hidden room both women know what’s happening.

‘This is relatively common,’ the therapist says, ‘especially with twins. This isn’t something to worry about.’ She squeezes Deanna’s arm, and Deanna thinks of the hospital receptionist leading her through to the pale room where they were told what had happened. The same squeeze that tells her that everything will be all right in the end, even if it isn’t right now. She’s not sure. They don’t tell Alyx that they know and Deanna doesn’t tell Laurence about it either. Instead she stands outside the twins’ room – No, she reminds herself, it’s only her daughter’s room now, because Sean is under all of that soil, face up, maybe even trying to get out, somehow – and she listens for what might be happening behind the closed door. She imagines a conversation, or a play and she wonders if Alyx sees her brother as he was, or if he’s something else, a vague and loose version of himself. She tries to fantasize Sean into being there herself while she listens, imagining him in front of her as she attempts to re-form him. Crouched on the floor, her eyes shut, she wonders if she can hear his voice herself if she tries. It would be so easy to go in and join Alyx in her fantasy.

Laurence is asked to do an interview on one of the bigger current affairs chat shows, as a pundit and nothing more. He’s still a good talker, charismatic and personable, and he’s more willing to say what needs to be said, to give sound-bites, than many others. He is, the TV producers think, good value for money. He has to buy a new suit as the others don’t fit him any more. It’s the same color as the one that he wore when he made his announcement. He gets the size smaller around the chest and waist, because he’s lost weight. He hasn’t been trying to, but it’s happened. His middle-age puppy fat is almost completely gone. If he sucks in his belly when he’s dressing he can see his ribs.

They talk about schools and healthcare, the topics that he’s there for, to actually try and pass judgment on some of the things going on across the country. And then the host rolls that into a conversation about Sean, blindsiding him. Laurence has no choice but to go with it. They talk about how the hospital tried to save him, and how hard they worked. They talk about universal healthcare and what it needs to work properly for the people. They talk about how it felt for him to lose his son, and Laurence cries, partly from the shock of being asked and partly because he simply cannot keep it in. There’s something honest about this; everybody watching can see that.

He says, ‘We have to move on. We have to go out and brave the rain. There is no other choice.’

Deanna doesn’t watch the interview, but writes instead, her own form of catharsis, abandoning the book that she was working on (which suddenly feels like frippery), taking only fragments – themes, emotions, some passages describing events that only now she feels she can do justice to, with all that she has been through – and she starts to create instead. She’s never written anything that she would term as fantasy before, but this is it: a mirror of our world that is underwater. It is the story of a woman and her son. The book has started to write itself and, fingers on the keyboard, she is powerless to stop it.

Lane does see her father’s interview. She is in a mall, in a bar that she shouldn’t be in, and it’s on the TV. She is with her friends and they point out her father and they joke – but then they remember. He cries, and she sees it, and they all fall silent. This is serious, they know. After that, she goes back to the tattoo shop. More ink on her skin: to turn what she has, as crude a beginning as anything has ever had, into something more.

The blogs talk about Laurence’s mental state of mind. They discuss the chance of him making a comeback, of him declaring. Maybe he’s not ready for this; maybe he has been through too much. But they’re split on Homme, and the younger elements of the party, those who want to move the party forward, are willing Laurence’s return. Better a man in touch with his feelings than a man who can’t see past the past, the blogs say. Laurence can mourn for now: the presidential election isn’t for another eighteen months. They agree that he’s the best man for the job. Somehow, his son’s death is a driving force; it is, in some small way, almost a validation for his policies.

Laurence is called in front of the delegates and they ask him again. He says yes. It’s announced that afternoon. Deanna and he don’t speak, because he didn’t talk to her first. His excuses – that he has done this for the family; that he is trying to be the man he knows that he can be – fall on deaf ears. He apologizes to her, but he doesn’t back out.

The delegates remind him to complete the ClearVista questionnaire. Even since he first agreed to it, the process has advanced. More questions, more answers, more data kicked out at the end. The process can take months to get the results that they desire: the visualizations, the computer-generated videos. The report, ClearVista say, will tell you what sort of man you are and what sort of president you will be; it tells the world that they can trust you. Amit agrees: if there are any concerns about Laurence’s wellbeing, his state of mind, his ability to run the country, the ClearVista algorithm will solve them. Laurence asks him how he’s sure it will show he’s the right man. Amit tells him that that’s what the software does. It looks for best-case scenarios. It finds out who you are and it predicts what you will do. The other candidates are using it and their results will be out first, so this has got to be done. Be honest, Amit tells him.

Laurence fills in the form that night. He’s regretful about so much of his life and he wants to lie, to electioneer, even here, to a faceless computer, but he doesn’t. He tells the truth. It’s cathartic, ticking the boxes that measure his sense of his own pain. He sends the results off.

ClearVista will , the email he gets in return informs him, be in touch.

Laurence and Deanna try with their marriage as much as they can. They go out for dinners in the town, but everybody knows them and they say hello and stop them from having to talk to each other. It lets them dance around the idea of speaking about anything that is actually important. They both know that they need to talk about Sean more than they do; Laurence has finally noticed Alyx talking to herself, and Lane going further off the rails. They all need a break. One night, he suggests a vacation.

‘We should,’ he says, and that’s really it decided. He books a hotel in Rome. It’s the furthest they’ve ever been, but nobody will know them there – Laurence doesn’t want anything that will remind them of their son. They force Lane to come, but she’s secretly pleased to be getting away. Her friends talk about the same things over and over and she’s bored by them. She wants more, now. She wants a purpose. The first night they land late, after the longest flight of their lives, and they find a small restaurant in the city and eat the dishes that they recognize on the menu: pasta and pizza, the stuff they’ve eaten at home, but it tastes so much better. Even just being somewhere else makes it taste better. They’re tired, but it’s already good for them to be out of America; and they walk the streets, and see the sights at night. They pass a fountain, famous, in all of the guidebooks, and Deanna can’t help but focus on the cherubs, spitting out water into the tiered pools. She tries to not let it get to her. She doesn’t sleep, because she feels guilty that they’re having this fun without him. She tells herself that she has to get over it, but she doesn’t know how she will. The next morning, on the rooftop terrace, Lane comes out in her bikini and they see the extent of her tattoos, running up one side of her body a creeping vine and flowers budding from it. Each flower is an item, an icon. Each one has meaning, they think. Laurence stands up when he sees her, but Deanna snaps at him and tells him to leave it.