The Steep and Thorny Way(55)

“Did you know anyone who went through the”—I softened my voice—“procedure?”

Joe nodded. “A fellow not as young as me, but still pretty young for a prisoner. A college student. They put him in jail specifically because he got caught with another man in a Portland hotel.” Joe opened his eyes and blinked in the direction of the ceiling. “The guards and a doctor took him out of his cell one day. They promised to relieve him of his urges. They spoke of eugenics saving the country from all its problems. ‘Sterilization for the good of all,’ they said. ‘The purification of America.’” Joe rubbed a knuckle against the inner corner of his right eye. “Then they brought him back in pain . . . all the life in him, gone. Just”—he shook his head—“gone.”

I slid my hand across the dusty floorboards that divided us. “I’m sorry.”

Joe cleared his throat and pushed himself up higher against the wall. “That’s when I straightened up and made sure I didn’t make a peep of complaint or get pushed into any fights. People beat on me and humiliated me, but I just let them—I just took it—because I wanted to get the hell out of that place before anyone took a scalpel to me.”

“And then you came home to your father calling you terrible words . . . and me, shooting a bullet past your ear.”

“I probably would have shot at me, too, if I were in your shoes.” He turned his face toward mine. “We’ve got to be very, very careful about putting you in situations like that, though—ones that could get you arrested. They’re operating on women, too, and the fact that your skin is dark will only make them want to stop you from having children all the more.”

I drew my knees to my chest and sank my chin against my right wrist. “People are really doing that sort of thing? Stopping other races from procreating?”

“There’s rumors that’s a major part of eugenics. Cleansing the country of anyone who isn’t white, middle-or upper-class, and fit enough to perpetuate the ‘master race.’”

“Are you sure?”

His voice dropped to a frightened whisper. “Yes. I’m sorry, but . . . yes.”

I tucked my chin against my chest and shivered. “I don’t want my life to end in tragedy, Joe.”

“I don’t want it to end that way for you, either.”

“And I don’t think it should.”

“No, it shouldn’t.”

“What’s wrong with people out there,” I asked, “deciding who gets to have children and who has to be stopped from living the type of life that feels right to them? What’s wrong with them?”

“Hanalee . . .”

I glanced his way when he didn’t continue, realizing he wanted me to look him in the eye. “What?”

“Have you ever gotten the chance to love someone?”

My face warmed, and my hair burned white-hot again, despite its shorn length. “H-h-how do you mean?”

“Have you had the chance to experience what it’s like, despite all the obstacles against you?”

I squirmed and felt my mouth go dry, but I didn’t avert my face from his.

“I don’t know.” My voice sounded small and naked in that empty horse stall. “A boy and I used to kiss when we were younger. A white boy, of course. I’ve never even seen a black boy my own age in Elston.”

“Who’d you kiss?”

I turned away.

He snickered. “Oh, come on—tell me. You’re not going to find me running out and gossiping.”

I sighed against my wrist and warmed my flesh with my breath. “It doesn’t even matter. We were just kids playing fairy-tale games. It didn’t mean anything.”

I heard a piece of wood creak and I jumped, but I quickly realized the sound came from Joe leaning his head farther back against the wall.

“Do you hope to get married someday?” he asked.

“As long as I don’t fall in love with a man the wrong color.”

He exhaled a steady stream of air through his nostrils. “I think love and wrong are two deeply unrelated words that should never be thrown into the same sentence together. Like dessert and broccoli.”

I laughed.

Joe moved the lamp to the other side of himself and scooted toward me. The sides of our arms and legs bumped against each other.

“No matter what happened the night your father died, Hanalee,” he said, “you need to go to a place that will treat you better.”

“I know.”

“Elston’s got nothing to offer you.”

“I can’t go anywhere before I know the full truth about my father. I don’t care if I get hurt in the process. I’ve got to find out what happened and learn who was there with him. Otherwise . . . I know he’ll keep wandering that road.” I relaxed my shoulders against the wall. “I’ll keep wandering.”

Joe closed his mouth and nodded. “All right. I’m still not entirely convinced Dr. Koning doesn’t own the largest share of responsibility, though. I don’t trust him in the slightest.”

“We can’t kill him, Joe. Not until I find out what happened at the Dry Dock.”

“I know.” He picked at the hole in the knee of his trousers. “What am I supposed to do, then? Just sit here and pretend to be dead?”