Lucy (14 page)

19

LUCY HAD BEEN SHIVERING VIOLENTLY
, she remembered that. She had just wanted to sleep. Then Amanda was in bed with her. Her body was warm, and Lucy wanted to reach for her, to hold her, but then Amanda was gone. The next thing Lucy knew, she opened her eyes and saw Jenny sleeping in a green reclining chair. Amanda was curled up on the floor in her sleeping bag and sunlight was coming in. Lucy felt hungry. Then she saw that she was in a strange room with odd machines and unfamiliar noises. A tube ran into her arm. Lucy began to shriek in fear. She saw Jenny vault across the room, saying, “Honey, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay. Shhh … You mustn’t scream. You were sick. You’re in the hospital. I’ll be taking you home soon.”

A nurse was at the door with an annoyed look on her face. “What’s going on in here?”

“Sorry,” Jenny said. “She was having a nightmare.”

Amanda was sitting on the floor looking around. “What happened?” she asked.

“I screamed,” Lucy said. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll tell Dr. Syropolous she’s awake,” the nurse said, and left.

“What happened?” Lucy asked.

“You had convulsions and a high fever,” Jenny began. “I had no choice, I’m sorry. They’ve given you medicine, and you’re getting better now.”

Lucy sensed a disturbance in The Stream. But she was groggy and unsure of what she was perceiving. Jenny leaned in close to her. She pointed to a device on the bed with a cord running out of it. It said “Call Nurse” in red letters. Jenny put her finger to her lips. Then she picked up a pad of paper and wrote, “They can hear us.” She wrote again, then held the page so that Lucy could read it. It said, “They have your DNA.”

“Oh, no,” Lucy said.

“What? What is it?” Amanda asked.

Jenny looked from one girl to the other and shook her head. “Be calm,” she said. “Be very calm. Just wait until we’re home.”

Jenny sat on the bed in the smelly motel room with her head pounding, her mind racing through all the possibilities. She took ibuprofen and stood under the shower for half an hour until her headache went away. Then she put on clean clothes and returned to the hospital. She gave Amanda the key to the room and stayed with Lucy while Amanda went to shower. Jenny didn’t want to risk leaving Lucy alone. While Lucy slept, Jenny thought about how their lives were about to change. She began to list in her mind all the passionate groups that were going to try to get in on the circus once it began. The true believers. She tried to imagine a happy ending, but she could not.

When Amanda returned, Jenny said, “Honey, I have to sleep. I have to think, and I can’t think until I sleep.”

“I’ll take care of her. You go ahead. We’ll be fine.”

“Call me if you need to. I have my phone.”

At the motel Jenny fell into profound sleep and woke at dawn. She couldn’t remember what day it was. She dressed and hurried to the hospital. Amanda and Lucy were playing chess on a set that one of the nurses had bought them. They both smiled when she entered the room.

“I’m so sorry, Amanda. I slept all night. I didn’t mean to. You must be exhausted.”

“It’s okay. I slept some.”

Dr. Syropolous arrived at about seven o’clock. Just seeing him in the doorway made Jenny’s heart jump. He asked if they could talk in his office, and Jenny left Amanda with Lucy.

Dr. Syropolous closed the door. “I have the results back from the lab, and I’ve been doing a bit of research.” It was what Jenny had expected. She thought, He knows now. He just doesn’t know exactly what he’s dealing with yet. “Does Lucy have any health problems? Any abnormalities? Mental dysfunctions? Behavioral issues? Anything out of the ordinary that you can think of?”

“No. She’s a normal teenager. Why do you ask?” Jenny knew perfectly well why he asked.

“Well, there’s something very unusual in her genetic profile. Some congenital anomaly. I don’t quite understand. It’s out of my field.”

“What congenital anomaly? There’s nothing wrong with her.” Jenny would continue to hold out for time even if it was only a few days. Let him wrestle with it.

“Let me just throw something out to you. It’s going to sound crazy, I know. But bear with me.”

She said nothing.

“Okay. I looked you up after our talk yesterday. And I learned that in addition to your teaching appointment you are a primatologist who studies bonobos in the Democratic Republic of Congo.”

“Yes. That’s correct. How is that relevant?”

“So you must know, Dr. Lowe, that bonobos are genetically more than ninety-eight percent identical to humans. I didn’t even know what a bonobo was until I read up on it.”

Jenny let him have the silence once more.

“But there are notable differences,” Dr. Syropolous continued. “They have, for example, a completely different sequence for amino acid metabolism from the one that humans have. Bonobos probably can’t digest meat very well because of it.”

A pause. Syropolous seemed to want her assent, but she gave none.

“Also there are differences in the alpha-tectorin gene. The hair-keratin-associated protein is different, too.”

“Yes, I know all of that,” she said, as if impatient. “But why are you telling me?”

“Because Lucy has that genetic material. She has what appears to be a genetic sequence that is a combination of human and bonobo genes. Her hair and skin, for example, are not entirely human. Close, but not exactly the same. Her sequence for amino acid metabolism is quite a bit different. I saw it myself in the microarray sequencer or else I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“That sounds crazy.”

“Yes, I know it does.” And after another pause: “Does she eat meat?”

“Of course, she eats meat.”

“Really? She refused the meat that the dietitian offered her. Lucy has some of the genes of a bonobo.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I know, it would seem to be. I’m sorry. I’m just telling you what I saw. It’s utterly baffling. I mean, my first thought was that it must be a contaminated blood sample. But you see, the trouble is that in order for us to have a sample of human blood contaminated with bonobo blood we’d have to have a bonobo. And the nearest ones—I checked on this—are in the county zoo in Milwaukee, which is about a ten-hour drive. Lucy’s blood was taken when she first arrived here. I know the nurse who took it. So you see …” The silence hung in the air for a long moment. Then Dr. Syropolous said, “And then, the fact that you are a primatologist who works with bonobos in the jungle … It seems like a most remarkable coincidence, don’t you think? But you say you know nothing about it.”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Because if hers is a natural mutation that allows her to be susceptible to a potentially fatal disease previously found only in animals—and by the way, bonobos are one of the animals that can contract encephalomyocarditis—then it’s worth a paper in one of the scientific journals. And the CDC will certainly want some follow-up research done on Lucy. Then again, if it’s not a natural mutation … Well, I don’t know what to think.”

Jenny remained silent.

“No thoughts at all on this?” Dr. Syropolous asked. “Nothing?”

“No. Sorry. None.” She could see that he was a smart and curious man. He would wake at three in the morning thinking about Lucy. And even if he didn’t do anything about it, the CDC would. Dr. Syropolous was bound by law to tell them.

“Dr. Lowe. I’m trying to help you. I respect patient confidentiality. But I think you’re hiding something. And I do want to know. I mean, you’re a scientist. Put yourself in my position. Wouldn’t you want to know?” He paused. “Dr. Lowe, please. I’m not the police.”

The mention of police sent chills up Jenny’s spine. That would come soon enough. “When do you think she can go home?”

20

MEMORANDUM

FROM:
M. George Glandon, PhD, Division of Viral Diseases, National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases

TO:
Distribution List, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

CLASSIFICATION:
Unclassified

ABSTRACT:
A recent human infection with an enterovirus suggests that research is called for in human-to-animal contact with special emphasis on nonhuman primates. EMCV 30/87 is an enterovirus normally found only in pigs, mice, rats, rabbits, and nonhuman primates, such as apes. A case described by P. Syropolous, MD (Dir. Internal Medicine, Mercy Hospital, Duluth, MN), in a letter to the Division of Viral Diseases, National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases, describes a fifteen-year-old female patient who presented with severe febrile illness and the potentially fatal condition of infection with encephalomyocarditis 30/87. She was treated with PLL and released in satisfactory condition. A genetic profile of the patient showed abnormalities indicating an increased susceptibility to the enterovirus, suggesting mutation not of the virus (to suit humans) but of the human genome (making the patient more susceptible to the virus). This confusing state of affairs deserves attention, but emphasis must be placed on determining whether Dr. Syropolous’s methods were satisfactory and his conclusions correct. This may simply represent a misreading of the evidence or a contaminated sample.

RECOMMENDATION:
CDC will take a clean sample of blood and produce a full genetic profile of both patient and virus to determine the appropriate course of action.

AUTHORITY:
42USC264.

21

JENNY SAT IN THE KITCHEN
watching Lucy eat a banana with peanut butter. Lucy saw Jenny watching and gave her an embarrassed look. “I peel them at school,” she said.

“That’s a relief.”

Jenny had considered stopping in Milwaukee on the way home from Duluth, but the fact that Lucy had been sick meant that she could be a danger to the bonobos there. Jenny called Donna, who agreed that the visit would have to wait.

Lucy sheepishly peeled her banana and spread peanut butter on it. She looked up at Jenny and took a bite. Jenny smiled and was about to say something, but the phone rang, and she jumped at the sound. She picked it up.

“Dr. Lowe, this is Dr. Syropolous. I trust you got home safely.”

“Yes.”

“Dr. George Glandon at the Centers for Disease Control asked that I contact you. They want to rule out the possibility that the virus has crossed over to the human species in some way that might pose a threat to the public health. They’d like to take a new sample of Lucy’s blood for analysis on the off chance that our sample was somehow contaminated.”

Jenny leaned on the counter. She already felt tired from what had not yet happened. They had decided at last how to respond. And Jenny had her backup plan with Donna if the worst happened. But the question before the world would be: What is the appropriate response to Lucy’s existence on this earth?

“Yes, yes,” Jenny heard herself saying. “I think I’d like to delay this until Lucy is feeling a bit stronger.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s not up to us. The CDC has certain powers under the law to prevent diseases from spreading. They can take Lucy’s blood by force if need be. They’re already a little concerned that she left the hospital. Even though she seems better, the virus is still in her system, and they need to sample it. They’ll be sending someone over today, in fact, a well-trained phlebotomist from Northwestern University. It won’t take five minutes.”

“I see,” Jenny said, thinking, We’d better get Amanda over here. It’s time for the girls to get busy.

“They wanted me to be the one to call since I am, de facto, Lucy’s physician at the moment.”

“Yes, of course.”

“The phlebotomist’s name is Roberta Dyson, I’m told. So I wanted you to be expecting her.”

Jenny hung up. She felt as if she were on speed, her mind racing through what the next weeks and months would bring.

“What?” Lucy asked. She had stopped eating and was staring at Jenny intently. “What is it, Mom? What happened?” But she knew. They had already discussed it all on the way home from the hospital.

The road they traveled from Duluth had stretched out ruler-straight for miles, cutting farm fields in half, as pastures fell away in gentle slopes toward island lakes. Dark clouds had gathered in the western sky as they entered the great expanses of forest in Wisconsin. Lucy caught the scent of deer and fox and even wolf in there. Somewhere around Washburn, Jenny said, “I think you should talk to Amanda now. The whole world is going to know soon enough.”

Lucy was afraid, not knowing how Amanda would react. She felt as if Amanda should have known long ago. But even when she had tried to tell her in the forest, she saw that Amanda could not believe her. Not yet. Not then.

“The world is going to know what?” Amanda asked as they plunged on through the darkening woods. A truck thundered past, going north, its headlights on. The sky had taken on an angry cast.

“That I’m half human. My mother was a bonobo.”

“What’s a bonobo?”

“It’s a great ape,” Jenny said. “Kind of like a chimpanzee. It used to be called the pygmy chimpanzee, but it’s actually a separate species, very closely related to humans.”

Amanda sat thinking for a while. “You two are putting me on, right?”

“No,” Jenny said. “What she’s telling you is true. That’s why you won’t get sick. I didn’t want to tell you at the hospital. She caught the disease because she’s genetically part bonobo. Her father was a primatologist studying bonobos in Congo. He decided to breed a female bonobo with a human male. Himself. Lucy was born from the female ape.”

Amanda’s hand came up to her mouth and she said, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. This is so not funny. That’s impossible, right? Tell me you guys are joking, okay?”

“I’m sorry, Amanda,” Lucy said. A cold gust came down from the dark clouds, and drops of rain began to tick onto the windshield. The smell of wet dust and oil rose from the road.

Jenny said, “It’s not a joke, Amanda. It’s real and Lucy is here. And with a sample of her blood they’re going to realize that she’s genetically part bonobo. That doctor already knew before we left, and he’s going to tell others. So we have to figure out what to do.”

“Oh, my God. Stop the car.”

Jenny pulled to the side of the road and Amanda leapt out before the car had come to a stop. She stood by the side of the road in the hissing rain, her chest heaving, her face pale with fear.

“Are you going to be sick?” Jenny asked through the open door.

“I don’t know. I just need air. You guys’re really scaring me. If you’re joking, this is really mean.”

But Lucy knew that Amanda didn’t believe that anymore. Not the way Jenny had said it, so flat and factual. Now Amanda was going through all the clues that she had been unable to put together and that now made so much sense—Lucy’s smell, her strength, her strangeness. The way Amanda’s dog Cody had reacted.

Lucy waited, worried about what her response would be. She was Lucy’s best friend, her only real friend. And now she knew that Lucy had been living a lie.

The rain increased, and thunder murmured in the distance. Lucy stepped out of the car and crossed to stand beside Amanda. “Please don’t hate me, Amanda. I tried to tell you the truth.”

Amanda turned slowly around in a complete circle, looking at a world that had changed forever. As she came around to face Lucy, their eyes met. She stared at Lucy for a moment, then burst into tears. Lucy held her tight, saying, “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.” Amanda wept in her arms as the cars and trucks ripped past on the gleaming highway. A long V of Canada geese undulated across the purple sky behind them, their faint voices reaching them on the wind, as lightning stitched the clouds. Amanda straightened up, sniffing. Jenny had come from the car to stand beside the girls.

At last Amanda said, “Will they take you away?”

“Honey,” Jenny said. “We don’t know what will happen yet. But I’m not going to let them take Lucy away. Not ever.”

Amanda stared at Lucy with tears in her eyes. “Didn’t you think you could trust me?”

Then Lucy was weeping, too. “Yes, yes, of course, I trust you. I wanted to tell you so many times. I tried to tell you in the woods.”

“I know. You did, didn’t you?”

“You don’t hate me?”

“No, I love you. I love you and I’m really scared for you. What are they going to do to you now?” Amanda gave Lucy a sharp look, as if she could stare right through her, all the way back to her conception. She saw clearly what Lucy represented now. “Why did he do this to you? Didn’t he love you?”

And for the first time, Lucy began to see something that she had avoided all along. Amanda didn’t even have to say who she was talking about. Lucy saw it clearly in her eyes. Amanda knew about these things. Most parents have children because they love them. Or they love children because they have them. But why, Lucy wondered, why did Papa have me? He saw his grand design, but did he really see the person he was creating? Amanda knew what it was like to have a parent who couldn’t see her. And Lucy felt sick now. Sick for herself and sick for Amanda. They held each other tighter in the rain.

“Come on,” Jenny said. “It’s not safe here. You’re getting soaked. Let’s go home.”

Amanda took a big shuddering breath and slipped from Lucy’s arms. She returned to the car and Lucy followed, taking the backseat. Jenny quickly put the car in gear and joined the flow of traffic. Yellow headlights swept the streaming pavement beneath the troubled sky. They rode on with only the sound of the highway, the smell of the rain, the windshield wipers slapping back and forth.

“I love you, too, Amanda,” Lucy said. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“I know that. I know that.”

Amanda had played music constantly on the way up to the Boundary Waters. But there had been no music since they left the hospital. Lucy knew: It had been something in The Stream that Amanda could read, a feeling that something was coming. And now it had come.

Lucy watched her. Amanda was a survivor, annealed by adversity. Lucy could tell that she was thinking intently, finding another strategy in a life that had demanded many ad hoc strategies. Amanda bit her fingernails, frowning. Lightning flickered through the heavy clouds. A moment later they heard a concussion, a rumbling. Amanda took up her folder of disks and flipped through them in a leisurely way, as if waiting for one of them to speak to her. Lucy could feel her in The Stream. Amanda picked a Tom Petty disk and put it into the machine. She turned the volume up loud, and the guitars began in jangling sheets of sound. The drums hammered out an insistent rhythm. Then Tom Petty’s voice: “Well, she was an American girl …” No one swayed or danced. Amanda sat nodding in agreement, it seemed, listening through the choruses until the guitars faded out at the end. Then there was only the ripping noise of tires, the sucking boom of big trucks passing. The rattling of the rain.

“I know what to do,” Amanda said.

“What?” Jenny asked.

“Take control of the information. Don’t let them set the agenda.”

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked.

“That’s how politicians do it. That’s how corporations do it. Remember in African American history class? After centuries of oppression the black people took control of their own heritage. James Brown? I’m black and I’m proud? That’s what you need to do. Don’t let them be the ones to tell on you. Don’t let them define you. You have to be the one to tell the world.”

“God, she’s right,” Jenny said. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Now as Lucy sat in the kitchen licking peanut butter from her fingers, Jenny explained what was going to happen with the doctors and the CDC, the new blood sample. “Okay,” Lucy said. “Then it’s time.”

“Yes, it’s time.” And they both understood what she meant: that it was time to tell the world.

Amanda had talked excitedly on the way home, mapping out how they would do it: The Internet. It was the new language of the culture. Everyone was on Twitter, Facebook, YouTube. It was The Stream of the global age. Amanda had been helping Lucy to prepare her own pages. Lucy had yet to put them up because, well, how do you tell people all about yourself when you’re living a lie? Now she knew who she wanted to be: Herself. Her true self. It would all happen in a flash, at the speed of light. The moment their YouTube video was up and her Facebook page went live, the world would know. Amanda had assured Lucy of it: It would roll around the globe like lightning.

Lucy picked up her phone and sent a text message to Amanda. “Dude,” it said. “Fasten your seat belt. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

Amanda came right back: “Is it time?”

“It’s time.”

“OMG. B right ovr.”

Roberta Dyson, the phlebotomist, came in the afternoon. She was a polite young lady with her hair in a bob and a butterfly tattooed on her collarbone. She had trouble meeting the eyes of other people. She didn’t know why she was taking the blood sample. She was just doing a job.

Amanda and Lucy had set up a video camera and were taping in the bedroom when Roberta Dyson arrived. Amanda, who was operating the camera, said, “Lucy, this is perfect. Proof that we’re not playing some prank on the world.” And she fell to blocking the scene and positioning the phlebotomist beside Lucy’s chair. “Rolling,” she said. “Go ahead, Miss Dyson. Lucy, say what’s happening.” Lucy stuck out her arm and made a fist, narrating, as the puzzled woman took two vials of blood. When she had left, Amanda and Lucy were laughing.

“That poor woman,” Lucy said. “She didn’t have a clue what was going on.”

“She’s about to have her fifteen minutes of fame.”

Jenny felt a rush of love and hope as she watched the girls work excitedly on their project. She wanted to leave them alone, to let this be their event, but she found it difficult to sit still and kept poking her head into the bedroom to see what they were doing. Then she’d pace the house, puttering, straightening up. At midday she brought the girls sandwiches. In mid-afternoon, Lucy called from upstairs.

“Hey, Mom. Do you want to be on our YouTube video?”

“No.”

“Okay. Well, will you get Papa’s notebooks?”

Jenny climbed the stairs. “What do you want those for?”

Amanda and Lucy looked so excited, their eyes bright. Jenny hadn’t seen them look that happy since prom night.

Amanda said, “We’re going to show some of the passages in the notebooks to prove that this isn’t a hoax.” Then she caught herself and said, “I can’t believe this is real.”

“Yeah,” Jenny said. “I know exactly how you feel, Amanda.” She went to the cabinet where she kept the backpack and brought it to the girls. Lucy began sorting through the notebooks.

“Girls. I can’t stand the suspense. I’m going out. Anyway, I have to tell Harry. I’d like to do it in person.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Take your time,” Amanda said. “We’ll probably be up all night.”

“Is there any way that I can help?”

“Yeah, Mom, could you pick up some Cool Blue Gatorade?” Lucy asked. “We’re going to order pizza later, but Piero’s doesn’t have Gatorade.”

•  •  •

Jenny and Harry met at a Thai restaurant that had been their favorite place in the days when they’d had a favorite place. It had an outdoor deck on the second story that overlooked a quaint row of shops in the old part of town. The sun had gone down and the lights were on in the hippie shops. They sat under an awning as a soft summer rain fell. The pavement gleamed with streetlights and headlights, and people hurried along the sidewalk beneath umbrellas.

Jenny laid out the story as simply as she could. His calm in the face of amazing news didn’t surprise her. It was one of the reasons that she had always been drawn to Harry. She could have told him that her throat had been slit and her hair was on fire and he would have said, Hmm … Let’s have a closer look, then.