The Light Pirate(65)
The picture he painted of the world outside what was formerly known as Florida was dire. He told them he moved around a lot, taking contracts on linemen crews where the need was greatest. He’d gone back to electricity after all. Phyllis didn’t ask what had become of his college degree. All those big dreams for making big changes. The answer was right there on his face. His eyes seemed to float across the room without seeing anything when the conversation turned to the years he’d been away. Phyllis stayed quiet during these inquisitions, witnessing Lucas’s reticence and Wanda’s eagerness, a delicate balance between the two siblings rediscovering one another that she didn’t wish to upset.
When they weren’t working or resting, Wanda took Lucas out in the canoe and showed him what Rudder had become. Phyllis saw them off on these adventures, Blackbeard twining between her legs, mewing as Wanda got farther and farther away. The blue house was built on some of the highest ground Rudder had to offer, but beneath it, the water had claimed almost everything. It was a difficult, in-between phase for navigation—in some places, it was too shallow for the canoe; in others, too deep to wade. Phyllis didn’t like Wanda going out on her own. She imagined her getting stranded, the canoe stuck among the weeds and debris, Wanda forced to swim through polluted water with who knew what lurking behind every ruin, but with Lucas joining her, she didn’t worry quite so much. She was glad for them to have the time together. Waving them off, she reminded herself that it was practice for the day they would leave her for good. She braced herself for this eventuality. But it didn’t come. And it didn’t come. And still, it didn’t come.
Finally, it came. But not how she expected. Wanda was off hunting for eggs in the swamp where the chickens liked to lay sometimes when Lucas told Phyllis he was leaving. She sterilized canning jars at the stove while Lucas sliced beets into thick half-moons, a deep purple-red stain creeping across the knife, the cutting board, his broad sunburned hands. She stopped what she was doing.
“I’ve overstayed as it is,” he said.
“I like having you here,” she replied slowly, as if speaking to an animal prone to startling. “I like having both of you here. I hope you know that. That it’s been—” A tremor crept into her voice. She swallowed it and continued, “It’s been a great honor to be Wanda’s guardian. And to have you here, too. But I of course understand if it’s time to move on.”
“That’s good to hear,” he said, scooping up a handful of beets and dropping them in the bowl. The vivid juices soaked into the weather-beaten crevices that crisscrossed his hands, illuminating the lines on his palms in bright, bloody slashes. She wished she were a palm reader. That his heart, head, fate lines were revealed to her in this moment. But Phyllis had no such skill for divination. Lucas continued, “Because I think that Wanda is better off staying. I’m not sure that there’s anything for her out there. Certainly not with me. She seems so…well, she seems happy here. And I’ll be honest, Phyllis, what’s out there is not good. It’s changing fast, and not for the better.”
For all her time spent dreading Wanda’s departure, now that Lucas was offering a future in which she stayed, she felt a catch but couldn’t yet identify it. “She’s happy because you’re here, Lucas. You’re both so welcome. I don’t pretend to know what it’s like out there, but here—”
“I’ll tell you what it’s like. It’s falling apart. I never even finished my degree. You know why? The university went belly-up. The whole University of California system. Done. It’s nothing but fires year-round there. And the East Coast isn’t any better. Floods, refugee camps, heat waves, droughts. It’s always too much of something or not enough. Even the places where the land is still good—there are too many people who need it. There’s something wrong every place you go, Phyllis. At least here you saw it coming. You figured out how to make it work. I thought as much, but I needed to be sure. Check that she was okay. Out there, it’s just things falling apart, piece by piece. No one knows what to do.”
Phyllis stared into the boiling water, tongs still in her hand, canning jars lined up beside her. She wasn’t surprised, but it was different to hear him say it. “Well, then…you’ll stay. You’ll both stay.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. You two fit, you make sense. I…I don’t.”
“I disagree.” The water was boiling so high it began to froth along the edges of the pot, climbing up and up.
“I got a crew now, Phyllis. We look out for each other. And we—well, we can’t fix it, but we can make it last a little longer, you know? It’s not like I wanted it to be, it’s not like I got my degree and a big job, but I got a chance to make a little difference. I got skills that are needed, Phyllis. Really needed. She’s better off here and I’m better off there. I don’t know how else to explain it. I can’t leave my crew, not for good. Told ’em I needed some time. Had to come make sure my kid sister was okay. But I don’t think I could sleep at night if I stayed, knowing I coulda helped.”
“I think I see,” Phyllis said slowly. She didn’t, but told herself there was still time to bring him around. Let him get it all off his chest. “So UC Berkeley is…”
“It’s done. Gone. UC Davis, UCLA, Irvine, all of it. The whole thing. Most schools are. A few of the fancy ones hanging on, I guess, but there’s no point in it anymore.”