Jason knew he had at most only a few days to enjoy his time with Arlette before he was shipped out. The Mississippi had relinquished control of his life, but that did not mean he was free. It meant he was now controlled by adults, adults whose decrees, so far as he was concerned, were as arbitrary and implacable as those of Nature.
Bright green wings flashed overhead, and Jason looked up to see a parrot perch on a nearby awning. In the chaos of the earthquakes and evacuations, the parrot had been set free. It had been living in the vicinity of the refugee camp for as long as Jason had been there. Some of the refugees had tried to catch the bird, but thus far it had evaded them.
“What will you do now?” Jason asked. “You and your mom, I mean.” His throat was still swollen, and he still needed to tilt his head to speak without pain.
“I don’t know,” Arlette said. “I don’t think she knows, yet. The house in Toussaint is all right, so far as we can tell, but the country is still flooded, and will be flooded for weeks, and there isn’t any way to get there unless we can use a helicopter.” She touched the pocket where her Gros-Papa’s watch rested.
“And—well, it’s not nice there right now.”
Jason took her hand and squeezed it. “I wish we could stay together. Maybe I can talk to my dad, to Aunt Stacy, to someone…” He looked up. “Oh, my gosh,” he said. His father was walking toward him, striding down the lanes between tents. He wore khakis and a Dodgers cap and a button-down shirt with a sky-blue tie, which was his idea of casual dress. But Frank Adams wasn’t alone: a whole mob trailed behind him, at least two television cameramen, a pair of skinny bearded men with microphones on long booms, a blond-helmeted reporter picking her way in high heels and short skirt past the refugees and their clutter.
Jason was stunned. He stood rooted to the spot while his father came close to him and threw his arms around him. “Careful!” Arlette yelped, wary of his broken ribs. But Frank didn’t put much strength into his hug.
“Hello, son,” Frank said. “Surprised to see me?”
Jason looked at the cameras. He could see the lenses focusing on him, zooming in for the closeup.
“Who are these people?” he asked. Pain knifed through his throat, and he winced. The blond reporter quickly explained that they were from a television news program—Jason recognized the name, a tabloid show so consistently sordid that his mother automatically shifted stations to avoid it—and they had flown his father into the camp on their helicopter so that he and Jason could be reunited. Jason tilted his head to speak. “Great,” Jason said.
The reporter asked him how he felt now that he and his father were together.
“Great,” said Jason.
Jason saw out of the corner of his eye that the camera crew were jostling Arlette away, and he reached for her arm and pulled her closer.
“Dad,” he said, “this is my girlfriend, Arlette.”
Frank seemed a little taken aback—not because Arlette was black, Jason assumed, since a man married to a half-Chinese scarcely had any room to object—more likely Arlette’s existence was a complication he’d never suspected. After a moment’s hesitation, he shook Arlette’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Arlette,” he said.
“Sir,” said Arlette.
The reporter asked if Jason and Arlette had met in the camp.
“The camp in Rails Bluff,” Jason said.
The reporter asked more questions, starting from Rails Bluff and going on from there. Jason answered the questions in as few words as possible. He had spoken to reporters before—the camp was infested with them—and this interview was much like the others. He had the impression that his answers didn’t matter, that the reporter had decided in advance what his answers were going to be, and asked questions calculated to get the answers she wanted.
The reporter asked Jason if he thought of himself as a hero.
“No,” he said.
Then the reporter asked Arlette if Jason was a hero.
“Yes,” Arlette said, and a rocket of pleasure soared up Jason’s spine. The reporter asked Jason what he wanted to be when he grew up. “An astronomer.” he said, which got a surprised look from Frank.
Jason didn’t know whether he wanted to be an astronomer or not, not really. But he knew he still had a few issues with the cosmos, and thought maybe astronomy would help him think about them.
“Excuse me,” Jason said. “But I’ve got to go to the infirmary. The doctors wanted to see me about my—” His hands made scratching motions near his waist. “About my broken ribs.” Jason made his escape to the infirmary tent, where he had a cot and where reporters weren’t allowed. Frank and Arlette followed. Jason turned to his father.
“Why did you bring those people?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry, Jase,” Frank said. “But it was the only way I could get here. The government isn’t letting people fly into the earthquake zone, not unless they’re aid workers. I would have had to fly into Meridian, then rent a four-by-four and try to get here on my own. And even then I might have run into roadblocks. But the tabloids have their own helicopters, and fly in whenever they want, so I thought—” He hesitated.
“Well, I sold our reunion story for twenty thousand dollars, and that will help pay for your college.” Jason stared at his father. “I don’t believe this,” he said.
Frank looked at Arlette. “Honey,” he said, “can you excuse us for a little while? It’s nice to meet you, but I’d like to talk to my son.”
Jason snagged Arlette’s arm and kissed her good-bye before she made her dutiful exit. It was one of the last kisses he was likely to get, he figured.
He led his father to his own cot, and they sat down. The infirmary tent was large and smelled of canvas and antiseptic. It was light and airy, since the canvas sides were rolled up, but the mosquito netting was down and kept out the bugs. None of the people in the tent were hurt very seriously—the critically injured were kept elsewhere, in the field hospital. Half the cots in the tent were empty, because refugees were constantly being evacuated inland, where the water was safe and the quake damage much less severe.
“We’ll be leaving on the helicopter before dinner,” Frank said. “We’ll fly to Houston, stay overnight, then get on a plane to Los Angeles.”
Jason looked up at him. “I’m going to L.A., then? Not to Aunt Stacy?” Frank sighed. “I guess you won that argument, Jase.”
Sadness crept through Jason’s thoughts. Once he had wanted nothing so much as to fly to Los Angeles. Now he wanted nothing so much as to stay.
“Can Arlette come with?” he asked. He knew perfectly well the question was hopeless, but he also knew this was a question that had to be asked.
“Jase,” Frank said, “there’s hardly enough room in our apartment for you.”
“Yes,” Jason said. “I know.” A fragment of hope lodged in his heart. “Can I visit her later? Spend some of that money to fly out here, and—”
“We’ll see,” Frank said, in the tone that said, See how I humor my child?
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Frank said. “This money from the tabloids—that could be just a beginning. Your story is getting out to the media now. There’s some real interest. I’ve been talking to some of the intellectual property people at the firm, and they’re very excited. We’re thinking of contacting some literary agents and publishers, some people at the studios. You could be famous.” He grinned and slapped his knees. “What do you think of that?”
Jason shrugged.