The Nix(19)

“Our records indicate she was in Chicago during a one-month period near the end of 1968, sir, when she was in college.”

“My mother never went to college.”

“Your mother never graduated college. But she was enrolled as a student at the University of Illinois–Chicago for the fall semester, 1968.”

“No, my mother grew up in Iowa and when she graduated high school she stayed in Iowa waiting for my dad to return from the army. She never left her hometown.”

“Our records indicate otherwise.”

“She didn’t leave Iowa until, like, the eighties.”

“Our records indicate, sir, that she was active in the antiwar campaign of 1968.”

“Okay now that’s definitely impossible. Protesting might be the last thing my mother would do.”

“I am telling you, sir, it happened. There’s a photograph. There’s photographic proof.”

“You’ve got the wrong woman. There’s been a mix-up.”

“Faye, maiden name Andresen, born 1950, in Iowa. Would you like all nine digits of her Social Security number?”

“No.”

“Because I have it, her sosh.”

“No.”

“So there’s a reasonable chance, sir. What I mean is unless evidence proves otherwise or we’re all the victims of an outrageous coincidence, this woman in jail is likely your mother.”

“Fine.”

“It’s very probable. Ninety-nine percent sure. Beyond a reasonable doubt. A lock, as much as you might hope not to believe it.”

“I understand.”

“The woman in jail, hereafter known as ‘your mother.’ We will not be having this debate again?”

“No.”

“As I was saying, it’s unlikely your mother will achieve a not guilty verdict here, the evidence against her being what you might call incontrovertible. Best we can do, sir, is hope for a plea and a merciful sentence.”

“I don’t see how you need my help for that.”

“A character witness. You’ll write a letter to the judge explaining why your mother does not deserve to go to prison.”

“Why would the judge listen to me?”

“He probably won’t, sir. Especially this judge. Judge Charles Brown. Goes by ‘Charlie.’ I’m not kidding you, sir, that’s really his name. He was supposed to retire next month but delayed retirement to preside over your mother’s case. I’m thinking because it’s high profile? A national story. Also he has a pretty appalling record vis-à-vis First Amendment stuff. The Honorable Charlie Brown does not have a lot of patience for dissent, let me tell you.”

“So if he won’t listen to me, why bother with this letter? Why bother calling me?”

“Because you have a somewhat respectable title, sir, and you’ve achieved a middling level of renown, and I will leave no stone unturned while there is still money in the fund. I have a reputation.”

“What is this fund?”

“As you can imagine, sir, Governor Sheldon Packer is pretty unpopular in some quarters. In certain circles, your mother is a kind of subversive hero.”

“For throwing rocks.”

“?‘A brave soldier in the fight against Republican fascism’ was written on one of the checks I cashed. The money poured in for her defense. Enough to retain my legal counsel for upward of four months.”

“And after that?”

“I’m optimistic we can reach a deal, sir, before then. Will you help us?”

“Why should I? Why should I help her? This is so typical.”

“What’s typical, sir?”

“My mother’s whole big mystery—going to college, and protesting, and getting arrested—I never knew any of that. It’s one more secret she never told me.”

“I’m sure she had her reasons, sir.”

“I want no part of this.”

“I should say your mother really direly needs help right now.”

“I’m not going to write a letter, and I don’t care if she goes to prison.”

“But she’s your mother, sir. She birthed you and, not to put too fine a point on it, suckled you.”

“She abandoned me and my father. She left without a word. She stopped being my mother then, as far as I’m concerned.”

“No lingering hope for a reunion? No deep longing for a maternal figure in a life that feels hollowed out and void without her?”

“I have to go.”

“She gave birth to you. She kissed your owies. Cut up your sandwich into little bits. Do you or do you not want someone in your life who remembers your birthday?”

“I’m hanging up now. Goodbye.”





6


SAMUEL IS LISTENING to cappuccino-related whooshing at an airport coffee shop when he receives the first message concerning Laura Pottsdam. It’s from his dean, the plague scholar. I met with a student of yours, she writes. She had some strange accusations. Did you really tell her she was stupid? And Samuel skims the rest of the letter and feels himself physically sinking into his chair. I’m frankly shocked at your impropriety. Ms. Pottsdam doesn’t seem stupid to me. I allowed her to rewrite her paper for full credit. We must discuss this immediately.