Raven Stole the Moon (2 page)

J
ENNA HAD CHANGED INTO A SIMPLE BLACK SUIT.
S
HE HAD
cleaned her face of makeup streaks, changed her clothes, and pushed the past back down where it belonged. Way down. Into the darkest part of her soul. A place where she never looked and nobody ever knew. Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies.

She stood on the terrace of the apartment across from the Public Market and looked down on the empty street below. Behind her, boys in white jackets served food on silver trays. Nice pad. Lots of cash. There were only six apartments in the building. Each one had great views of the water and huge terraces. Robert was not in this league. He was in a league, but not this one. The place belonged to Ted and Jessica Landis, real estate brokers to the gods. They had two sons, both out of college, one in grad school and the other in the business. Michael. Probably called him Mikey when he was little.

It was a cool evening in July and a breeze blew off the water. That’s the thing about Seattle in the summer; there’s no humidity and it cools off nicely. The summers are beautiful, but the winters are bad because of the rain. But at least there isn’t a ton of snow like in Cleveland.

Jenna watched the ferries chug across the water against the backdrop of shimmering lights on Alki Point. She sipped her wine and stood at the edge of the terrace. There were some other people outside, but she didn’t want to talk. The Jefferies. They have two girls. The Thompsons. She just had a boy and needs to work out. Why can’t we all be like Demi Moore? Pop those suckers out on the StairMaster.

“Jenna!”

A loud voice cut through. It was Christine Davies. Mercer Island. Summer house on Hood Canal. A son the same age as Bobby would have been. David Davies. What a clever little name. Did he think of it himself? He’s so clever. Is he in college yet? I hear he’s the smartest alien child ever born of a humanoid. Have another drink, you don’t look like you’ve had enough.

“Jenna, I love your suit. Do you buy all your clothes out of town? I go to Barney’s and I never see things like that. It’s gorgeous! You’re looking wonderful. I wish I had your hips. Have you lost weight?”

“Hello, Christine.” Jenna squeezed out a polite smile. “Thank you. No. How’s little David?”

“Oh, would you like to buy some Campfire Girl mints? David is selling them. I know, he’s not a Campfire Girl. Our oldest, Elizabeth, is selling the mints for her troop. If she sells a hundred boxes, she gets a gift certificate at Nordstrom’s. She loves clothes, but she hates to sell anything. So she and David have a little deal. David sells the mints and Elizabeth will split the prize with him. He only needs to sell twenty more boxes. He’s a wonderful salesman. Peter
knows
he’ll be a broker one day. The little round mints. Only four dollars a box. It’s for a good cause.”

“What’s the cause?”

“Hmm?”

“The good cause. What’s the cause?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Christine said, surprised at the question. “The disabled, I think. The mentally disabled. Does it matter what the cause is as long as it’s good?”

Christine spit out a hacking laugh. Heck, heck, heck. Cough-laughing. A Scandinavian tradition. Jenna tried to twist her grimace into a smile, but she wasn’t sure it worked.

“Sure, Christine, I’ll take five.”

“Five? Well. What’s your secret, Jenna? You look so thin.”

“I’m on a strict diet of water and Campfire Girl mints.”

Heck, heck, heck.

Christine became serious. She put her hand on Jenna’s arm, a serious gesture. She swayed slightly in the breeze.

“Seriously, Jenna. How
are
you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, but how
are
you? It must be so hard for you this time of year.”

Jenna looked into Christine’s drunken eyes. They seemed to focus independently, like a fish. There was a white foam spot on the corner of her mouth. Her teeth were stained. Her breath smelled like a smoked salmon omelet.

“It must be so
hard
for you.”

Jenna imagined that the inside of Christine’s head was a giant clam. It was a pulsating sack that sucked water in and spit it out to propel itself. Her head sat on the ocean floor. A bivalve mollusk. It sucked in through one ear and spit out through the other, each time the head skimming a few inches above the sand and settling back down.

“Times like these I’m grateful I have Robert.”

A starfish jumped her head. It pried her skull open and sucked the juicy mussel out. One valve, then the other. Sucked and slurped her gooey brain right out of her ear.

“Oh, I know. Without family, where would any of us be?”

“Excuse me, Christine, there’s Robert. Don’t let me leave without those mints.”

Kiss, kiss.

Jenna almost gagged as she caught a whiff of Christine’s breath. Hangtown fry. Oysters and scrambled eggs. Bivalves and embryo.

Robert was entertaining a group of brokers near the bar as Jenna approached. Those brokers sure can drink. I guess when you’re always worried about losing your job, it makes you tense. How’s the market? Not a penny less than twenty-four dollars a square foot.

She looked on as Robert told an animated story to three other men. They were all in their early thirties. Some more successful than others, of course. All of them former college athletes. That goes over big in the world of real estate. They can all pee together and say things like, “When I played for the Huskies, you know, back when we used to go to the
Rose
Bowl, we used to get wasted and pick up hookers down on Western. Look, you can see it from here. Man. If we had bought
then . . .
”

Robert was the most successful. He drove the nicest car. He lived in the nicest house. He had the best, smartest, most beautiful wife. And until two years ago, he had the best, smartest, most handsome son. But that’s all over now, isn’t it? How long does it take to get over something like that? Forever. You don’t get over it. A child is a creation. It is your blood in another. It is your life. The worst thing that can happen is that you lose your child.

Robert spotted Jenna and called out to her as the three drunken brokers eyed her up.

“Jenna, honey, come over here. I was telling them about when we went back to Cleveland. Remember how angry you were when there was no Christmas tree?”

“I wasn’t mad. I was disappointed.”

The three laughed.

“You were pissed. She was so pissed. She broke a branch off a tree in the yard and put it in our room. Our own little Christmas tree!”

The three laughed more. Three non-Jews. Why does Robert play the Jew? Does he think it gives him a psychological advantage? He’s probably right.

“Jenna’s got it made! She’s Jewish, American Indian, and Christian. Think of the holidays! She could take half the year off with religious holidays!” Laugh, laugh. “We’re having a potlatch next week. Everyone in the village is invited!”

Their heads almost exploded with laughter. Their faces were covered with huge pores oozing out some foul combination of sweat and oil. These guys are
not
going to age gracefully. Jenna studied the tumbler full of scotch and ice in Robert’s hand.

“I guess I’m the designated driver tonight, Robert?”

He stopped laughing. The three friends got that goofy look on their faces when someone gets in trouble. They put their hands to their mouths to keep from laughing. Robert wheeled on Jenna and glared at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I won’t have another glass.”

“I was telling a story—”

“Keep going, it was funny.”

“—and you cut me off. Where’s your sense of humor?”

“I just wanted to know if I could have another glass of wine.”

“Bullshit. You never have a second glass of wine. You cut me off and you know it.”

“Robert.”

“Admit it.”

She looked at him incredulously. The three friends had slipped away. Now it was just Robert and Jenna in the middle of the room, attracting the attention of others. Heads turned. Everyone could see that he was disciplining her for her bad behavior.

“Robert, stop it,” Jenna said under her breath. “Don’t do this to me in public.”

Robert grabbed Jenna’s arm and led her to the side of the room. He knocked on a door and opened it. It was a bathroom. He pulled her inside.

“Why did you do that to me?”

“Do what? Robert, I didn’t do anything.”

“You humiliated me in front of my colleagues.”

“You didn’t need any help from me,” Jenna said. She sat on the closed toilet seat and crossed her legs, trying to appear calmer than she was.

“Don’t be a bitch,” he said sharply. Jenna winced. She hated that word and he knew it. “If you didn’t think you could make it through the party, you should have stayed at home.”

Jenna looked up quickly.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Why wouldn’t I be able to make it through the party?”

“Well, you’re obviously still upset about my lighting a candle for Bobby and you’re taking it out on me. Which is completely typical.”

“Typical?”

“Yeah, typical. You
typically
can’t get over your guilt and I
typically
can. Look, it’s not
my
fault if you still feel guilty about him. It’s not
my
fault if I’ve processed it and I can act like a normal human being. I light a candle. I like to do it—it helps me. If you can’t stand it, well, that’s too bad.”

Jenna bit her lip to keep from lashing out. She wasn’t going to let a scotch-soaked Robert suck her into a fight that neither of them would win. A slug-fest in the Landis powder room. Blood on the floor. She stood up and opened the door.

“You should have another drink, Robert. It really makes me attracted to you.”

She looked up at Robert, who was glaring at her with hard eyes. There was hatred in that look, nothing less. Deep down and unmistakable. She stepped out into the party and closed the door behind her.

Jenna headed straight for the terrace. She needed some fresh air to clear her head. All that oppressiveness in the bathroom was making her dizzy. Once outside, she took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to get upset. She wasn’t going to let Robert do it to her twice in one night. No way. She walked along the edge of the railing. Everything’s fine. Keep moving. Shake it off. He’s drunk. He’s the one with the problem. He’s the bad guy.

After a couple of minutes Jenna felt back in control, her emotions recontained in her Tupperware mind. She went inside and got a glass of Perrier at the bar. She didn’t want another glass of wine anyway. Robert was right about that. She had only wanted to stop him and his idiotic story. The alcohol was making Robert talk a little too loud and laugh a little too hard, and that always embarrassed Jenna. Not to mention the fact that he would get so drunk at a party of such prominence. This was a working party. Deals were being made. Relationships nurtured. Standing around with drunken underachievers made Robert look like another one of the losers.

Usually, Robert stood out from the pack. He was well put together, as Jenna’s father would say. He’s got a good presentation. Yessir. Doesn’t drink too much. Doesn’t talk too much. Doesn’t think too much. Gets the job done and gets it done right. A nice Jewish boy.

Dad was Jewish. Even though he disavowed himself of all outward Jewish trappings, he was a Jew deep down and Jenna knew it. He was happy that Jenna found Robert. He didn’t have some romanticized idea that they would raise their kids Jewish, but he felt, in his soul, that another Jew would be born to the world.

Dad, too, was surprised to hear that Robert’s family didn’t have a Christmas tree. Christmas isn’t religious, it’s American. What American won’t celebrate Christmas? The best way to avoid religious persecution is to avoid being too religious. That’s what he said. He didn’t even mind when they chose to name their son after his father. “That’s all superstition,” her father beamed. “Robert is a fine name.”

Jenna snapped out of her reverie and found herself standing in a quiet hallway that seemed to lead to the bedrooms. She looked around. It was obviously the Hall of Records. The walls were covered with photographs of the Landis family. Hundreds of photographs, starting with old black-and-whites of the grandparents and progressing up through new portraits of tiny babies. Jenna scanned the walls quickly. High school proms. Weddings. Christmas shots with Santa. Vacations. She lingered on a shot of Ted Landis and one of his sons when he was younger, about Bobby’s age, it seemed. They were standing on a dock. A lake glimmered in the background with afternoon sun. The boy held a fish proudly. Jenna stood before the photo, unable to tear herself away. It was such a simple photo. Such a simple event. A boy, his father, and a fish. It’s universal. Every family has a photo like this. Every father has taken his son fishing. But they don’t all go fishing in Alaska. They don’t all go to Thunder Bay. The son doesn’t always drown.

“Jenna.”

Jenna looked up. It was Christine. Mints.

“Jenna. We’re leaving.”

Christine grabbed Jenna’s arm and led her into a bedroom.

“Is Robert drunk?”

“I think, probably.”

“Because he was talking about . . . Bobby. You know. What
happened. ”

Jesus, it doesn’t stop. Jenna closed her eyes and exhaled.

“It’s our anniversary,” she said.

“Really? I thought you were married in the winter.”

“No. The anniversary of Bobby’s death.”

Christine froze in the dark bedroom. Outside the window, the lights from downtown sparkled in the distance. An orange streetlight cast an eerie glow on Christine’s face. She looked at Jenna with compassion. Compassion never before imaginable from this woman. True pity. Sincere.

“Oh, Jenna, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

She wrapped Jenna in an embrace. Jenna’s head fell against Christine’s shoulder and Jenna gave in to this woman with the clam head. Jenna began to cry. Deeply. Sobbing. Gasping for breath. Oh, the horror. The inequity. The smell of perfume and body odor. The rough hands of Christine stroking your hair. The floodgates opened and out came a flood.