When she was ten, her older sister Glynnis had finally succumbed to her protracted battle with rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare muscle tumor. Davida had loved her sister and watching Glynnis spend her last days confined to a hospital bed, hooked up to tubes, clammy gown wrapped around a sallow, stick-thin body, bleeding from her gums and nose…
Glynnis’ blood cells were in steady retreat and there were no new donors to be found.
Stem cells would have saved Glynnis, Davida was convinced of that. How different would things have been for the Grayson family if the scientific community had been funded righteously?
Two and a half years ago, Davida had been heartened when the people voted in an initiative funding a state stem-cell institute. But years later, she was disillusioned and angry: all the institute had accomplished was creating a board of directors and issuing a namby-pamby mission statement.
“Science works gradually” was the excuse. Davida wasn’t buying it. People like Alice had the answer, but Alice hadn’t even been consulted by the new board- Davida’s repeated requests notwithstanding.
She decided she’d waited long enough. Buttressed by a battalion of scientists, doctors, clergy, humanists and genetic sufferers, she went to war every day in Sacramento, laboring to convince her less-enlightened colleagues that a less grandiose but more efficient legislative approach was the answer.
And got precious little for her efforts.
It wasn’t that the stodgy pols really cared about aborted fetuses, because she’d learned that few pols cared about anything other than getting reelected. Though they screamed a good case. Six months into her struggle, she was convinced it was Davida they were rejecting. Because of who she was.
Day after day of wearing out her vocal cords, making deals she really didn’t want to make, wasting hours on mind-numbing meetings. Now eggs in her face, on her blouse…right there on the capitol steps, the humiliation.
What a mess- there was a metaphor for you.
Mother’s voice snapped her back to the here and now. Prattling on about dangers lurking around every corner.
According to Lucille, Davida was a major target of every white-supremacist hate group in California, not to mention Bible Belt prolifers, hypermacho antigay farmers from the San Joaquin Valley, and, of course, misogynists of every stripe and gender.
She recalled Mother’s first words after the election results were tallied and Davida’s supporters broke into raised-fist cheers in the social hall of the old Finnish church.
Be careful, dear. Don’t get cocky and think because you can get elected here that you’re really popular.
Mother was being her typical negative self, but there was some truth to her admonitions. Davida knew she’d made many enemies, many of whom she had never met.
“Don’t worry, Mother, I’m fine.”
“On top of that, you work too hard.”
“That’s what a public servant does, Mother.”
“If you’re going to keep such long hours, you should at least be compensated for your efforts. Like in the corporate world. With your experience, you could write your own- ”
“I don’t care about money, Mother.”
“That, my dear, is because you’ve never been without it.”
“True, Mother. Fortunate people go into public service to pay back. Stop worrying about me.”
Lucille Grayson’s look was injured. And frightened. She’d lost one daughter. Survival could be a burden, thought Davida. But she tried to be compassionate. “No one wants to hurt me. I’m too insignificant.”
“That’s not what I saw on TV.”
“They’ll have an arrest soon. Whoever did it wasn’t clever. Probably imbeciles from the White Tower Radicals.”
“They may not be clever, Davida, but that doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous.”
“I’ll be especially careful, Mother.” Davida took a bite, put down the fork and wiped her mouth. “It’s been lovely, but I have piles of paperwork and it’s past nine. I have to get back to the office.”
Mother sighed. “All right. Go ahead. I have to pack up myself.”
“You’re not staying overnight?”
“No, I have a meeting tomorrow morning with my accountant back home.”
“Who’s driving you, Hector?”
“Guillermo.”
“He’s a good guy.” Davida stood up and helped her mother to her feet. “Do you need any help packing?”
“No, not at all.” Lucille kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Let me give you a ride to your office.”
“It’s a beautiful night, Mother. Not too cold and not too foggy. I think I’ll walk.”
“Walk?”
“It’s not late.”
“It’s dark, Davida.”
“I know everyone en route and as far as I know, none of them plans to egg me. You be careful yourself. I don’t like you going home so late. I wish you’d sleep here overnight.”
Not inviting Mother to her own apartment; there were limits.
Lucille said, “ Sacramento is only an hour away.”
Davida smiled. “Not the way Guillermo drives.”
“A shorter journey means less opportunity for problems, dear. You have your business, I have mine.”
“Fair enough.” After bidding good-bye to Mother’s friends, Davida accompanied the old woman out of the dining room and helped her up the staircase to her room. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Mother. And I’ll tell Minette you said hello.”
“But I didn’t.”
“In domestic matters, honesty isn’t always the best policy.”
2
Walking through the stillness of Berkeley’s business district, a thin fog veiling street signs and darkened storefronts and tickling her nose, Davida jammed her hands into her pockets and enjoyed the solitude. Then the silence got to her and she shifted to Shattuck Avenue, the core of the Gourmet Ghetto. The cafés that lined the street teemed with life. As much a concept as a place, the ghetto featured an architectural mix, like Berkeley itself, that refused to conform to anything resembling a standard. Fussy Victorian morphed to Arts and Crafts California bungalow to Deco to Fifties Dingbat. There were a few nods to the contemporary, but permits were hard to come by and developers often gave up.
Though she’d never admit it to anyone, Davida had long come to realize that Berkeley, like any other small, affluent town, had its own conservative core- change was threatening unless it toed the party line. In this case, the party was hers and she loved the controlled heterogeneity.