Кевин Уилсон - Nothing to See Here

Madison’s body, which had been tense and vibrating, relaxed. I finally felt calm, knew the depth of the situation, saw the bottom and knew I could climb into and out of it without incident. I leaned back into the comfort of this sofa, which held me in just the right position. Then I quickly leaned forward and ate two more sandwiches.

“Lillian?” Madison said.

“What?” I asked.

“There’s more, actually,” she said, grimacing.

“What?” I asked.

“The kids. Bessie and Roland. There’s something I have to tell you about them.”

I had a quick flash of what might come. It was sexual, some kind of abuse that had left them hollowed-out shells. That notion transformed into some kind of disability: missing limbs, horrific facial scars. A sensitivity to sunlight, a mouth without any teeth at all. And then it moved to homicidal impulses, kittens drowned in the bathtub, knives at the ready. Of course Madison would wait until I had given myself to her.

“They have a unique—I don’t know what to call it—kind of affliction,” she began, but I couldn’t keep quiet.

“Do they not have any teeth?” I asked, not frightened but merely wanting to get it over with. “Did they kill a kitten?”

“What? No, just… just listen to me, okay? They have this affliction where they get really overheated.”

“Oh, okay,” I said. They were delicate little kids. Didn’t like exercise. Fine.

“Their bodies, for some reason that doctors haven’t quite nailed down, can quickly rise in temperature. Alarming increases in temperature.”

“Okay,” I said. There was more. I just spoke to make Madison keep talking.

“They catch on fire,” she finally said. “They can—rarely, of course—burst into flames.”

“Are you joking?” I asked.

“No! God, of course not, Lillian. Why would I joke about something like this?” she said.

“Well, ’cause I’ve never heard of anything like this. ’Cause it just seems like a joke.”

“Well, it’s not a joke. It’s a serious condition.”

“Jesus, Madison, that’s wild,” I said.

“I haven’t seen it, okay?” she replied. “But Jasper has. I guess the kids get really hot when they’re agitated and they can just catch fire.”

I was in shock, but the images felt easy in my brain, honestly. Children made of fire. That seemed like something I wanted to see.

“How are they still alive?” I asked.

“It doesn’t hurt them at all,” she said, shrugging to highlight how dumbfounded she was. “They just get really red, like a bad sunburn, but they’re not hurt.”

“What about their clothes?” I asked.

“I’m still figuring this out, Lillian,” she said. “I guess their clothes burn off.”

“So they’re just these naked kids on fire?”

“I think so. So you can understand why we’re worried. I mean, Jasper is their father, though I’m fairly certain that this comes from Jane’s family. It only started once she was raising them on her own. She was a real handful; I wouldn’t be surprised if she was some weird pyromaniac. But Jasper is stepping up. He’s going to take care of these kids, but we have to be smart about this. We’ve got a guesthouse on the property. Well, it used to be something else, but whatever. Jasper spent a fortune to have it renovated and properly safeguarded for the children. That’s where you and the kids will live. It’s really nice, Lillian. It’s beautiful. I’d rather live there than in this huge house, if I’m being honest.”

“I’d live with the kids?” I asked.

“Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week,” she said, and she could see on my face that this sucked. “We can arrange for a few days off, to have someone else watch them if you need a break one day. And it’s just for the summer, until we can figure out a more permanent solution, okay? Once the vetting is done and the nomination comes through, it’ll all be easier.”

“This is weird, Madison. You want me to raise your husband’s fire children.”

“Don’t call them ‘fire children.’ Don’t even joke about it. We can’t really talk about it. The doctors have been very discreet, thanks to Jasper’s connections, and they’re not going to say anything, but we have to get a handle on the situation so that we can figure out how to solve this problem.”

This was Madison, campaign manager. She looked at the children setting my fucking hair on fire, these naked fire starters, and she saw only a problem that could be solved with a press release or a photo op.

“I just don’t know,” I said. Those weird cucumber sandwiches were now making my stomach ache something fierce. My teeth hurt from the sweet tea. Where was Carl? Could he drive me back to my mom’s house? Would Madison even let me leave?

“Lillian, please. I need you. And I’ve read your letters, okay? I know your life. Do you really feel like you’re giving up much of anything? That friend who stole your television? Your mom making you drive her to some casino in Mississippi? We’re going to pay you, okay? A ton of money. And, yeah, it’s a lot of work, but Jasper is a powerful person. We can help you. After this is all over, you’ll be free of your life and you’ll have something better.”

“Don’t act like you’re the one doing me a favor,” I said, a little angry.

“No, I know that I’m asking a lot from you. I didn’t want any of this, you know? But you’re my friend, okay? I’m asking for you to be my friend and help me.”

She wasn’t wrong. My life sucked. It was bad, and it hurt because I had envisioned a life that was, if not Madison’s fate, at least something that could sustain me. Really, truly, I still believed that I was destined for an amazing life. And if I tamed these children, if I cured their weird fire sickness? Wasn’t that the start of an amazing life? Wasn’t that something that got optioned for a prestigious biopic?

“Okay,” I said. “Okay, I’ll watch these kids. I’ll be their… what did you call it?”

“Governess,” she said, delighted.

“Yeah, I’ll be that.”

“I promise you that I will never forget this. Never.”

“I’d better get home,” I said. “Is Carl gone? Can somebody drive me to the bus station?”

“No,” Madison said, shaking her head, standing up. “You aren’t going home tonight. You’re staying here. You’ll spend the night. In fact, you don’t have to go home if you don’t want to. We’re buying you everything you need. All new clothes! The best computer. Whatever you want.”

“Okay,” I said, so tired all of a sudden.

“What do you want for dinner tonight? Our cook can make anything.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe pizza or something like that.”

“We have a pizza oven!” she said. “The best pizza you’ve ever had.”

We stared at each other. It was three in the afternoon. What did we do until dinner?

“Is Timothy still napping?” I asked, trying to break the awkwardness.

“Oh, yeah, I’d better go check on him. Do you want a drink or anything?”

“Maybe I can take a nap?” I asked.

I barely took note of how huge the house was now that I was able to move through it. We went up a spiral staircase, like in some big-budget musical. Madison was telling me some nonsense about how during the Civil War they took horses up these stairs and hid them in the attic from the Union army. It’s possible I imagined this, some kind of fever dream in the aftermath of making a life-altering decision.

She led me to a room that looked like there should be an exiled princess in the bed. Every single piece of furniture seemed like it weighed a thousand pounds. Probably some nineteenth-century carpenter had built the desk right in the room and it had been here ever since. There was a chandelier. I’d lived in apartments that were one-third the size of this single room. I made a mental note that I needed to stop being so awed by Madison’s wealth. I was going to live inside this place. Everything that she owned was now mine. I would need to get used to touching it and not being electrocuted.