Хлоя Бенджамин - The Immortalists

The pond reflects the light of the moon, and Raj’s face tightens like a fist. Daniel sees Raj’s weakness as surely as he knows his own: Raj is afraid of losing Ruby. He’s kept her from the Golds not just because he doesn’t like them, but because of the threat they pose. An alternate family – an alternate life.

But Raj holds Daniel’s gaze. ‘You’re right. I’m not a doctor. I don’t have a college degree, and I wasn’t born in New York. But I raised an incredible kid. I have a successful career.’

Daniel fumbles, for suddenly, he sees Colonel Bertram’s face. You must think you’re a special fucking snowflake, the colonel said, his grin looming over the wreathed pin. A real American hero.

‘No,’ he says. ‘You stole one. You stole Klara’s act.’ He has wanted to make this allegation for years, and it revives him to finally say it.

Raj’s voice becomes lower, slower. ‘I was her partner ,’ he says, the effect not of calm but terrible restraint.

‘Bullshit. You were cocky. You cared more about the show than you did about her.’

With each word, Daniel feels a rush of conviction, and of something initially hazy before it grows clearer in shape: the echo of another story – the story of Bruna Costello.

‘Klara trusted you,’ Daniel says. ‘And you took advantage of her.’

‘Are you kidding me, man?’ Raj tips his head back a fraction of an inch, and the whites of his eyes flash with moonlight. In them, Daniel sees possessiveness, yearning, and something else: love. ‘I took care of her. Do you know how fucked up she was? Did any of you know? She blacked out. Her memory was in pieces. She wouldn’t have gotten dressed in the morning if it wasn’t for me. Besides, she was your sister. What did you do to help her? You met Ruby once? You talked on Hanukkah?’

Daniel’s stomach rises and turns. ‘You should have told us.’

‘I barely knew you. No one in your family had welcomed me. You treated me like I was trespassing, like I’d never be good enough for Klara. For the Golds – the precious, entitled, long-suffering Golds.’

The scorn in Raj’s voice stuns Daniel, and for a moment, he cannot speak. ‘You know nothing about what we’ve been through,’ he says, finally.

‘That!’ says Raj, pointing, and his eyes are so alive, his arm so electric, that Daniel has the impression – absurd – that Raj is about to do a magic trick. ‘That is exactly the problem. So you’ve been through tragedy. No one’s denying it. But that is not the life you’re living now . The aura is stale. The story, Daniel, is stale. You can’t let go of it, because if you did, you wouldn’t be a victim anymore. But there are millions of people still living in oppression. I come from them. And those people can’t live in the past. They can’t live in their heads. They don’t have the luxury.’

Daniel recedes, stepping into the dark of the trees as if for cover. Raj doesn’t wait for his reply: he turns and walks back around the pond. But he pauses at the path to the house.

‘One more thing.’ Raj’s voice carries easily, but his body is shadowed. ‘You claim you’re doing something important. Something that matters. But you’re deceiving yourself. All you do is watch other people do your dirty work from thousands of miles away. You’re a cog, an enabler. And my God, you’re afraid. You’re afraid that you could never do what your sister did – stand onstage by yourself, night after night, and bare your fucking soul without knowing whether you’ll be applauded or booed. Klara may have killed herself. But she was still braver than you.’

Raj and Ruby leave before eight in the morning. It rained overnight, and their rental car sits in the driveway, wet. Raj and Daniel load the trunk without speaking. Drizzle clings to the yellow velour of Ruby’s latest sweat suit. She hugs Daniel stiffly. She’s just as frosty with Raj, but Raj is Ruby’s father: she’ll have to forgive him eventually. Not so with Daniel, who feels a visceral despair as Ruby climbs into the passenger seat and shuts the door. When they reverse out of the driveway, he waves, but Ruby has already ducked her head to look at her phone, and all he sees is a mass of hair.

Mira drives to New Paltz for a department meeting. Daniel walks to the refrigerator and begins to unload yesterday’s leftovers. The turkey skin, formerly crisp, has become shriveled and damp. The pan drippings are opaque, beige puddles.

He reheats a full plate in the microwave and eats at the kitchen counter until he feels sick. He can’t bear to sit at the dining room table, where the Chapals and the Golds ate dinner what seems like years ago. For the first time, Daniel felt bonded to Ruby – felt that he could be close to her, that he need not be ashamed of his role in her mother’s death. And now he’s lost her. Maybe Ruby will visit when she’s eighteen and can make her own decisions, but Raj won’t bring her back and will never encourage it. Daniel could reach out to Ruby, but who knows whether she would respond? The wreck of Thanksgiving was not just Raj’s fault.

After his last blowup with Raj, years ago, Daniel found solace in work. But he can do that no longer: this time, when he thinks of the office, he feels strangled. He will only be able to keep his job if he relinquishes his power, which lies in his ability to make decisions. And if he does that – if he chooses job over integrity, security over free will – he’ll be just as much a pawn as Raj claimed.

His cell phone rings from the bedroom. Daniel walks upstairs. When he sees the number on the screen, he yanks the phone so abruptly that the charger comes out of the socket.

‘Eddie?’ he asks.

‘Daniel. I’m calling with an update on the case. You wanted me to keep you appraised.’

‘Yes?’

Eddie’s voice is heavy, strained. ‘We’ve cleared her of charges.’

Daniel drops down onto the bed. He presses the phone to his ear, the cord trailing like a tail. ‘You can’t do that.’

‘Look, it’s’ – Eddie exhales – ‘it’s a very gray area. How can you prove she killed these people when she never touched them, never even urged them, not in so many words? I’ve spent the past six months trying to pin this woman down. When I came to you, we’d almost closed the case. But I thought there might be one thing I was missing: some shred of evidence only you knew. And you did what you could. You were honest. It just wasn’t enough.’

‘What’s enough? Five more suicides? Twenty?’ Daniel’s voice splits on the last syllable, something that hasn’t happened since boyhood. ‘I thought you said she isn’t registered. Can’t you get her that way?’

‘Yeah, she’s not registered. But she’s barely making any money. The bureau thinks it’s a waste of time. Besides, she’s an old lady. She won’t be around much longer.’

‘What does that matter? You look at people who have done horrible things, despicable things, it doesn’t matter how late you get justice. The point is you get justice.’

‘Easy, Daniel,’ Eddie says, and Daniel’s ears become hot. ‘I wanted this as badly as you. But you have to let it go.’

‘Eddie,’ says Daniel. ‘Today is my day.’

‘Your day?’

‘The date she gave me. The date she said I would die.’

This is Daniel’s last card. He never thought he would share it with Eddie, but he is desperate to make the agent reconsider.

‘Oh, Daniel.’ Eddie sighs. ‘Don’t go there. You’ll only torture yourself, and for what?’

Daniel is silent. Outside the window, he sees a delicate, crystalline flurry. The snowflakes are so weightless he can’t tell whether they’re drifting toward the sky or the ground.