Nothing to See Here (53)

And I liked the idea of taking Timothy hostage, of forcing Madison or Jasper to come get him.

“Let’s go,” I said, and I helped Timothy out of his seat and we all walked across the manicured lawn to our house, all lit up and happy and deranged.

“What do you want to look at?” Roland asked Timothy, who again just shrugged. Bessie ignored the boy and pulled a book off the shelf and pretended to read it. I knew she didn’t want the boy in our house, since he already had so much.

Roland showed Timothy an Etch A Sketch, and they each handled one of the knobs, working together to make a mess on the screen.

I sat next to Bessie and watched the boys play fine enough, though they didn’t really talk. Every once in a while Roland would grab the toy and shake the shit out of it, which seemed to both frighten and delight Timothy in equal measure. And then they went back to it, Roland watching Timothy more than the screen.

“So, that wasn’t so bad, right?” I asked Bessie.

“I guess,” she said.

“I like this dress,” I told her.

“You don’t wear dresses,” she said. I just had on my jeans and a nice enough top.

“No,” I said, “not really.”

“Do you think Madison likes us?” she asked. I knew how she was feeling, the need to have Madison look at you, direct that sunlight your way.

“Oh, yes,” I said. “She’s stoked to have you guys here.”

“I liked the food,” she offered.

“Mary is the best.”

“She’s scary,” Bessie said.

“Cool people are scary sometimes,” I told her.

“You’re not scary,” she said, and I didn’t know what to say to that.

And then Timothy and Roland tired of the toy and came over to the sofa. Timothy was looking at Bessie, trying to make sense of her. When Bessie finally couldn’t ignore him any longer, she looked at him, glaring. “What?” she asked.

“You catch on fire?” he asked, curious.

Bessie looked at me, and I shrugged. I wasn’t sure what we were or weren’t supposed to tell Timothy. But I guess he knew. Or had overheard. Or could simply sense it; the kid was that spooky that I’d believe this possibility.

“Yeah,” Bessie said, and Roland nodded.

“Can I see?” Timothy asked.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Bessie said.

Timothy touched Bessie’s hand like he thought it might be hot. Bessie let him.

And then someone was knocking on the door, and Madison and Carl appeared in the doorway. Timothy pulled his hand away from Bessie and immediately started walking toward the door. Madison came in. “Look at this!” she said. “Are you having fun?” she asked Timothy, who actually nodded, or what for him was a nod.

“Well,” she said, “we’d better get back to the house.”

“Where’s Dad?” Roland asked.

“Well, he’s been called away on some important business,” she said, as much to me as to the kids. “Very important. But he’ll see you again soon.”

Madison took Timothy’s hand and they stepped outside, but Carl hovered in the doorway, which I took as a sign for me to come talk to him.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Is it about the kids?”

“The secretary of state just died,” he whispered to me. “Just dropped dead in his kitchen.”

“Wasn’t he dying?” I asked.

“Well, he was dying, but he was a powerful man. He was going to die very slowly. This was unexpected.”

“So what now?”

“So Senator Roberts has been offered the post.”

“Oh, shit,” I said. “Really?”

“There’s a process that starts in earnest now,” Carl replied, “but they’ve already been doing a lot of preparation. It looks promising.”

I thought about Madison, one step closer to what she wanted. I thought about Jasper, but there wasn’t much feeling there.

“And so what does it mean?” I asked. “Like, for the kids?”

“Let’s just see how this plays out,” he said.

“But are the kids being considered?” I asked. “How all this affects them?”

“Honestly, Lillian?” Carl replied. “Not really. Not much. So just keep taking care of them. Do what you need to do to maintain order.”

“You don’t want them to fuck this up?” I asked.

“I do not want them to fuck this up,” he repeated.

“Okay, fine,” I said.

“Good night,” he said to me. “Good night, kids,” he said to the twins, who didn’t respond.

He left, and I went back to the kids.

“Is Dad dying?” Bessie asked.

“What?” I replied. “No. No way.”

“All right,” Bessie said, suspicious. Hopeful? I couldn’t tell.

“He was supposed to give us a hug after dinner,” Roland said.

“I don’t want him to hug me,” Bessie said.

“You guys look really cool,” I said, changing the subject. “I’m going to take a picture of you.”

I found the camera, the one Madison had asked me to use to document their lives, like maybe she needed pictures in order to quickly make a happy photo album for visitors to see. The kids were slumped on the sofa, tired.