The ruin, p.17
The Ruin, page 17
“The village remained small, but it slowly grew. Descendants of the ancestors began to marry the Healed and form families. New members of the Ruin were born and taught the ways of our people, and our secret was kept safe.
“When my mother was a young woman, she felt the village was too small for her. She had learned quite a lot of the world outside from the few who did dare to seek us out. The village would never change, but the world was full of excitement beyond the Ruin’s borders. So, not long after her seventeenth birthday, she ran away.
“It was 1971. She knew how to sew and cook, so she took odd jobs, making enough money to travel upstate. By the time she was nineteen, she made her way to Alexandria, and she met your grandfather, Dean. He was in construction and always came into the cafe where your grandmother worked for lunch. They married, and a few years later, I came along. When his job in Alexandria drew to a close, they moved out here to Baltimore where our small family has been ever since.”
“Most of our family, you mean. Don’t forget, you ran away from here. It seems like abandoning everyone you say you love for your own selfish whims is a running theme in this family if what you’ve said about your mother is true. Just ask Jennifer.”
Richard’s face is unreadable as he ignores me and continues his story. “My mother used to tell me tales of the Ruin when I was young. She talked about their village, their gift, and why it must never be used again. I thought she was an excellent storyteller. They felt so real, but I knew they couldn’t be true. Her words went against everything I was taught to believe in school. She told my father the stories, too. I don't think he ever believed her either, but he loved her enough that he let it go.
“Then, when I was fourteen, my father died in a construction accident. He was crushed between two girders. We were left with very little, enough life insurance to pay off the house, but nothing else. My mom took on extra jobs to get me through high school. I took out loans to go to college. Even without a father, my life was very normal.
“Every night before bed, my mother used to make me promise I would never use the gift of the Ruin. I didn't believe it was true, so of course I always agreed. When I moved out and went to college, even when I came home for the holidays, she would make me promise again.
“Valerie actually met your Grandma Lily twice before she died. The days surrounding my mother’s death were strange. I received a phone call at work informing me she had passed. No one knew what had happened. The police never suspected foul play. I did. She had never been sick, and she wasn’t injured. I pressed the police to investigate further, but I didn’t get any answers.”
“I’m sorry about your mother. I’m sure that wasn’t easy. I don’t know what Connor told you before I got here – ”
“He told me enough,” he replies. His voice is cold.
“You lost your mom when you were young, so you have to understand why I am doing everything I can to keep my mother alive. If you’re worried about the experimental treatment – ”
“Of course, I’m worried about the treatment,” Richard interrupts. “I don’t want anything to happen to you or your mom because you’ve done something illegal, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m not finished with my story.”
I impatiently tap my foot. None of what he’s saying makes any sense, and it has nothing to do with why he left us or helping Mom. He’s clearly lost his mind.
“The story of the Ruin should have ended with my mother,” Richard says. “I didn’t believe any of it was true. I should have listened. Because of me, a sheer act of desperate sadness ripped our family apart. I did something foolish. but I never meant to hurt this family or to disappear.”
He takes another deep breath and looks at me. “When you were six, a very close friend of mine got sick. He, much like the tradesman in the original story, had been traveling internationally and came down with a mysterious sickness. Do you remember Evan?”
“Yeah. We used to go down to the National Aquarium and get ice cream in the harbor with him every summer,” I answer.
“Evan had been my best friend since I was a child. The houses we grew up in were only a few blocks apart, and when we graduated, we went to the same college. We used to set each other up on blind dates and joke about what terrible taste the other had in women. He’s actually the person who introduced me to your mother, albeit by accident. They had an economics class together and were studying for a test when I stopped by his dorm and bumped into Valerie on the way out.
“When he fell ill, I was devastated. The doctors couldn’t identify the precise infection, and none of the broad treatments were working. It was a blood infection of sorts, and within a few weeks, he was unconscious and near death. I was terrified of losing him. I remember sitting by his side for days and coming home to you girls at night, trying to pretend like I was fine. It was so confusing for me to see him there in such a state. Evan had never been one to get sick, really. In all of our years together, he had only had a few bouts of the flu and a couple of ear infections. I didn’t understand how someone so young and healthy could die so quickly. The doctors were out of options.
“I don’t know what possessed me, but one day, in a frenzied state, I found myself shutting and locking the door to his hospital room. I slid my chair under the handle and closed the blinds. He was hooked up to so many tubes that the rest was easy to rig. I made a makeshift transfusion set-up and decided to try the Sharing.
“I knew I must have been out of my mind even as I was doing it. If I had thought it through, I would have been worried about picking up whatever infection Evan had contracted. That was the logical thing to consider. In the moment though, it didn’t matter. My best friend was dying, and if I could save him, even through some ridiculous superstition, I had to try.
“I sat on the edge of the bed with Evan, cycling and infusing my own blood into his. Nothing happened for a long while. I was convinced I’d lost it. I had already decided nothing was going to happen when he started to stir. I removed the tubes and reattached them to the IV poles, then unlocked the door, set the chair right, and opened the blinds. I didn’t want anyone to see what I had done and have me arrested.
“Slowly, the machines started registering improved vital signs. His heart rate increased, his oxygen levels improved, and he opened his eyes. When his doctors and nurses came in, they were mystified. Before them, the man who had been dying hours before, sat upright in bed, cheeks flushed with healthy color. I couldn’t tell them what I had done, so I pretended to be as confused as they were. Maybe I was as confused as them. I didn’t know what to think either.”
“You can’t take credit for that! The medications had finally done their job! That had nothing to do with you, just like the cholera epidemic had nothing to do with our ancestors. You were lucky you didn’t die! He was lucky to have modern medicine!” I’m fed up with his tall tales, exasperated.
“I would have thought so too if the people around him hadn’t started dying.”
Too much anxious energy courses through my body for me to remain seated any longer. With trembling hands, I push myself out of the chair and walk to the window. Sir Meowverick, who has been lounging on the deep sill in a warm patch of sun, arches his back into a stretch, then reaches his paw out to me, purring loudly. I scoop him up and cradle him to my chest. His canine pokes me as he rubs his face against my cheek and meows.
Richard says nothing as I distract myself and watch the crowds of people passing below. A young woman pushes a toddler in a stroller down the cracked sidewalk. Three teenagers stand on the corner, chatting and waiting for the crosswalk sign to change. School must be out. Traffic has picked up, too. Occasionally, a car horn punctuates the silence.
I tell myself I’m not looking for Connor and desperately wishing he would come home, but I know that’s a lie. Richard appears to have much more to say. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve held up my end of the bargain. I’ve listened to his completely ludicrous stories. They’re the raving tales of a madman. There’s nothing in them that will help Mom or me. He hasn’t explained why he left. This has been a complete waste of time.
Richard’s odd conspiracy theories aren’t just impossible; they hint toward some sort of sick god complex. I can’t comprehend how he’s convinced himself our family is responsible for the deaths of so many when experts, backed by science, have already determined the cause.
Has he experienced some sort of break or psychosis? Are there medications he should be on that he isn’t taking? And, this Sharing thing, mixing blood and returning it, is ridiculous. It sounds like something straight out of a Stoker novel.
When I glance over my shoulder, he’s watching me warily from his seat. I turn back to the window, and in the reflection, I see him run his splayed fingers through his short hair.
“Can I get a glass of water?” he inquires.
“Sure.” My reply is curt. “The glasses are in the kitchen.”
He moves to the kitchen, opening cupboard doors in search of a clean glass. I take this opportunity to sneak off to the bathroom for a moment of reprieve.
The door clicks shut and I twist the lock. Sir Meowverick leaps gracefully down onto the tile. I use the edge of the sink to hold myself up and fire off a message to Connor.
Where r u?
He responds almost instantly. He must be keeping a close eye on his phone.
Killing time @ the pharmacy. Need me 2 come back?
My fingers hover over the screen, torn between two messages: “Yes, hurry” and “No, I’m ok.” I type out the first, pause, then delete it. When I don’t answer, Connor texts again.
Need me 2 bring anything back w/ me?
Maybe Tylenol? Some wine? Something harder? Richard’s giving me a migraine.
Ur wish is my command.
B here in 30?
Yup. Promise.
I sigh and lock the screen, tucking my phone back into my pocket. There must be something wrong with me. Anyone else would have asked him to come back, but I didn’t. Why?
Covering for my absence, I flush the toilet and wash my hands. The cat winds around my feet in figure eights. Before leaving the room, I bend down and scratch him behind the ears. He offers an approving nudge, and I wander back to the living room where Richard waits.
He’s in his chair, a half-empty glass of water in his hand. His eyes follow me as I settle onto the window ledge. After a moment, he turns to look for a table to set his glass on. There isn’t one, so he opts for carefully positioning it on the floor before launching into his story again.
“I was as astounded as the doctors. After the Sharing, Evan was the healthy man I knew again. His recovery made him a medical curiosity. Doctors and nurses from different units stopped by his room to marvel at him. His vitals and all of the labs the doctors ordered were perfectly normal. They insisted he stay a few more days for monitoring, but moved him into a recovery room. Things were fine. You and your mother came to visit, and we played cards. Do you remember that? We were so relieved to see him well again.”
I nod. I do remember when Mom brought me to the hospital to see Evan. It’s been so long I had almost forgotten.
We stopped at the gift shop on the way up and picked out a stuffed bear and a balloon for him. It was just the two of us that morning. Jennifer was with Mom’s parents in Harrisburg for her annual summer visit. We met Richard in Evan’s room and spent several hours there.
To my six-year-old self, it was very boring, even though I liked Evan well enough. He noticed when I started to squirm and ordered food from the cafeteria with a little square brownie dessert to make me smile.
Evan was a nice man. I haven’t seen him since then.
“It took two days for the early symptoms of the Sickness to show in the staff, the ones who had spent the most time with Evan,” Richard continues. “The immunologist was the first to succumb. It happened right in front of us.
“When he entered the room, he was fine. By the end of the conversation, he was flushed and sweating. We watched as he continuously wiped his brow on his coat sleeve while we all talked. He turned to leave the room, and as he did, I noticed he wasn’t walking well. He staggered from side to side with each step.
“I stood and approached him as he opened the door. He grabbed onto the metal frame and looked back at us right before he collapsed and began violently convulsing. Your mother called for help, and I turned him onto his side and tried to keep him from hitting his head as he foamed from the mouth. Staff rushed to his aid and immediately lifted him onto a stretcher, wheeling him away to the emergency room. It took a few hours for us to learn he had been dead upon arrival.”
“That’s awful…”
“It wasn’t just him who fell ill, though. Overnight, three nurses who had cared for Evan became incredibly sick as well. They demonstrated similar symptoms to the immunologist, similar symptoms to what Evan himself had suffered.
“Some of them lasted longer than others. Those who survived the longest developed large sores on their skin, hallucinations, and eventually fell into a coma before succumbing to the mutated disease.
“Luckily, it didn’t take the hospital long to hypothesize the connection between the sick staff members and Evan’s mysterious infection. All of the staff that had interacted with him since the beginning of his care were quarantined in a separate, rarely-used wing. Sadly, several patients and family members who came into contact with those staff members became ill, too. They joined their care providers in isolation, as did Evan and me.
“I should have told them you and your mother had visited Evan too, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you locked up in the quarantine rooms, so I begged your mother to stay home and keep you safe.
“The doctors were too cautious to enter the rooms where we were isolated. We were incredibly lucky in that regard because if they had, many, many more would have surely died. Since several of the quarantined were practitioners themselves, the uninfected doctors and nurses provided guidance from behind plexiglass barriers and allowed the infected to care for one another, ordering supplies and having them sent in through a drawer.
“I alone knew what I had done and suspected why this was happening. It horrified me to see nurses and doctors who had only cared for Evan before the Sharing locked away with those of us who came into contact with him after. They didn’t need to be there. Yet, there they were, and some of them had even been forced to bring their family members with them due to infectious disease protocols.
“There were children in the isolation unit, Kara. There was nothing I could do. Those people suffered horrific deaths, and I knew they were entirely my fault.”
My mouth falls open. I’m speechless. If Richard is making this up, what kind of screwed-up person would involve children? If he’s not, how much guilt must he have felt to internalize deaths from natural causes like a mysterious disease? He couldn’t have instigated an outbreak of that scale with a single, superstitious act.
“I called you and your mother every day for almost two weeks. Do you remember?”
“I remember.” My mouth has gone dry. “You were away for a long time. I could tell Mom was worried about you, but you said you were on a work trip. I thought everything was fine.”
Richard bows his head. “I know. We had to lie to you to protect you. That’s what parents do.”
“Jennifer was gone for a long time, too. She was only supposed to spend a week with Grandma and Grandpa, but you told me they asked her to stay a little longer. She missed her summer camp. She was so upset with both of you.”
Again, Richard nods. “It was safer that way. I couldn’t keep you from coming into contact with the disease. You had already been to the hospital to see Evan with your mom. But, I could keep her away. It was the only thing I had control over.”
The room grows silent again as Richard falls into his memories. His face is pained as he replays the events after the Sharing in his mind. He’s quiet for long enough that when he talks again, it surprises me.
“Then your mother got sick,” he whispers. There’s misery in his voice like he’s choking out each word. “It was just you and her at home. I couldn’t leave the hospital. You can’t imagine the panic I felt when I found out Valerie had it, too. I practically camped by that phone waiting to hear from your mom. I called her, and she called me, and we both waited and waited.
“I don’t know how she survived.” He trails off, sniffling and wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his blazer. “But somehow, she did. It took five days for her to pull through.”
“She had the flu, Richard,” I state. My voice is firm. “I took care of her because you weren’t there. That was the first time I took care of her without you, and it wasn’t the last. I held her hair when she vomited. I helped her get to and from the bathroom and cleaned up her accidents. I gave her pills to take and kept a cold washcloth on her head. It was bad, but it was only the flu.”
“It wasn’t the flu, Kara,” Richard asserts.
“Yes. It. Was,” I manage to grind out through my teeth. “Don’t you dare use your god complex to explain away the damage you did to our family. I won’t listen to it.”
“You will listen to this!” he yells. I flinch, not expecting the outburst. “You will listen to this and try to understand. That’s all I’ve asked you to do. I’m still your father, no matter what happened in the past, and you will do this. You have to.”
My fists bunch at my sides. “Father? You haven’t earned that title. You threw it away.”
He runs his hand through his hair again, a nervous habit. “Yes, I did, and this is why.”
I shake my head, disgusted. “By all means, continue explaining your delusions.”
He sighs. “I’ve had a long time to think about this. The only conclusion I’ve reached is that Valerie survived because she was married to me. More specifically, I believe she survived because we had children together. A minuscule portion of my DNA must have remained inside of her body, protecting her as it would’ve protected me, but in a weakened form.”
