Mindspeak Read online

  After that, he determined that since I was his star, he would instead call me his little starfish.

  Deciding my room was entirely too stuffy, I grabbed my dinner and my banana and headed to the roof.

  Settled into a dark corner on top of the girls’ dorm, I opened my dinner. The chicken was cold, the broccoli mushy. I peeled the skin of the banana while I lay back and stared at the stars. A cool breeze blew wisps off my forehead.

  The door that led to the roof creaked behind me. I stretched my neck in an attempt to see who approached. All I saw was a couple holding hands and walking in the opposite direction.

  Having wrapped the necklace multiple times around my wrist, I dangled my arm above my head, admiring how the silver of the starfish caught the reflection of the moonlight.

  “Nice bracelet.”

  I sat up. My hand covered my heart. Jack. “Why do you keep doing that? You’re like stealth or something.”

  He smiled, sitting down beside me. I refused to look at him and instead threw my banana peel into my dinner box and shoved it to the side. The things I felt when he was near confused me, and the time he spent with Briana pissed me off.

  “Sorry I scared you,” he said.

  “What do you want, Jack?”

  “Do I have to want something?”

  “Yes. You’re not even allowed up here after nine, which is in…” I looked at my watch.

  “An hour,” he finished for me. “Who was your visitor today?”

  “Why is that any of your business?”

  He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

  I returned to my lateral position, staring up at the stars. When Jack didn’t speak, I said, “How’d you even find me?”

  “Apparently, your roommate knows you pretty well. And, I think she likes me.” I could hear the amusement in his voice.

  “That’s just your over-inflated ego talking. My roommate is way too trusting.” Something she and I would talk about.

  “She’s concerned about you.” He poked at my bent elbow, my arm tucked under my head like a pillow. “You going to tell me who visited, or do I need to call my father? He would probably be interested in knowing you had a visitor.”

  “What makes you think he doesn’t already know?” Of course I assumed Dr. DeWeese had no idea.

  “Why the big secret?”

  I sat up and faced him. “I don’t question who you spend your time with, therefore you have no right to question me.”

  When the corners of his mouth twitched, the temperature of my blood slowly began to rise.

  “Ahh.” He lifted his chin. “That’s how we’re going to play it? You’re jealous, so you’re going to keep things from me.”

  I stood, grabbed the box of food I’d barely touched and carried it to the trashcan by the door. Jack’s stare followed me, his smile never fading.

  I stomped back. “I am not jealous, Jack.” At least I was trying not to look at it like jealousy. “I’m just not playing whatever game this is you’re playing. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  He stood, his eyes grabbing mine with their intensity. “I already told you there is nothing going on between Briana and me.”

  “It doesn’t matter. This has nothing to do with jealousy. You can see whomever you wish. There’s nothing going on between you and me, either.”

  He stepped closer. So close I could’ve counted his eyelashes. “If you believe that, then you really are naïve.”

  By the way he said naïve, it sounded like he really meant “emotionally stunted.” My eyes angled toward his lips. The memory of the kiss by the pool sent prickles galloping down my spine.

  The sound of laughter erupted behind us. I turned and watched the couple who had come up on the roof just before Jack got there. They left, and Jack and I were alone.

  When I faced him again, his face was still close. His eyes drilled into mine. I wiped the sweat from my palms onto my pants. I had so many questions. I didn’t know where to begin. If he didn’t make me so angry...

  “You’re going to have to learn to trust me, Lexi.”

  “Based on what?” I asked quickly. “How you freely give up information that might shed some light on this huge mystery I call my life?”

  “I have no idea how,” he said. His shoulders relaxed. “There are things I want to tell you, but I’m just now learning many of the details of a past we seem to share.”

  “You say you’re ‘just now learning.’ You mean through The Program?” Why did my skin crawl every time the subject of The Program came up?

  He nodded. “You’re not the only one who has been kept in the dark.”

  “But you know more than you’re telling me.”

  He did not argue with that.

  “Do you know who Sandra is?” I asked.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Yes and no. I mean, I thought I did. She’s a geneticist like our fathers. But you said my mother mentioned her, and that struck me as odd. So, I asked her about it.” He shifted uncomfortably.

  “And?”

  “And… My parents are hiding information from me about her. I’m working on finding out more.”

  I studied his expression. “I’ll tell you what.” I stepped even closer to him in some small burst of confidence. “I’ll go on that date with you if…” I had to know who this Sandra-woman was. “…If you’ll agree to find more information about Sandra.”

  A triumphant smile played with his lips. “Great. I’ll take what I can get. And I’ll see what more I can dig up. So, you and me. Friday night.”

  “Fine. Maybe through the course of an evening, we’ll find an ounce of trust for each other.” I wanted to trust him with every part of my being, and I wanted him to trust me with the information he clung to so tightly. I stared into his deep blues. Then, I shrugged in an attempt to keep my strength and independence. “Or maybe we won’t. But if we don’t find a way to trust each other? It’s over. We go our separate ways, and you leave me alone.”

  His smile faded.

  I kind of regretted my words knowing how hard it would be for me to fully trust this son of a geneticist Dad had hardly spoken of over the past seventeen years. Could I really walk away from Jack?

  Nevertheless, I needed to distance myself from him and The Program if I thought for one second the people behind The Program meant me harm. I would not be controlled by whoever was behind this so-called program. I was just tired from all the secrets surrounding my life.

  ~~~~

  I moved my queen diagonally three spaces. My eyes circled the room and landed on Ms. Whitmeyer. Hugging a book, she stared out the window from her wheelchair.

  “Check mate.”

  I turned back to the game in front of me. “Mr. Batman.” His real name. “Did you cheat again while I wasn’t looking?”

  “Now, Lexi, you know I don’t cheat. If you’d been paying attention you wouldn’t have made such a silly mistake when you moved that queen.”

  I puffed hair out of my eyes in amused exasperation. “Mr. Batman, you flirt with all the ladies here, right?”

  “Only the single ones, Lexi. I’m a gentleman. I have my standards.”

  “Well, do you have the scoop on Ms. Whitmeyer?” I lifted my head in the direction of the woman I saw Wolfman speaking to the day my father died. She turned the page of the paperback lying across her lap.

  Mr. Batman cocked his head sideways at me, his bushy gray eyebrows twitching. Just when I thought he was going to scold me for asking him to gossip, he said, “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”

  Exhaling, I smiled and when he motioned me closer with his finger, I leaned in.

  “She’s a fake.” He flashed his perfect dentures.

  I leaned back, lifted one foot up onto the chair, and hugged my knee. “Mr. Batman. You’re a nut. What do you mean, ‘she’s a fake’?”

  “I am a nut.” He smiled. “But I’m completely serious about this. I heard her tell the cops last week that she hadn’t
seen her son in years. He was here that day. Trouble. That son of hers.”

  “The cops were here? To talk to Ms. Whitmeyer? Why?”

  “No idea.”

  I had an idea. And it had to do with Dad. And Sandra Whitmeyer. “Does she suffer dementia?”

  “I’ve talked to her. She loves that son of hers, and when she suffered a minor stroke, she started having these seizures, and he couldn’t take care of her anymore. That’s why she’s here.” He shook his head. “It’s a shame, really. But as sure as I’m sitting here, she has her full wits about her.”

  Ms. Whitmeyer flipped another page of her book. As she did, she lifted her head. When our eyes met, a confused expression passed over her face. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something.

  “Lexi,” Mr. Batman said. “Why do you spend so much time here? Why aren’t you off dating and doing whatever you teenagers do these days?”

  “You know the answer to that.” I forced my lips to curve upward. “None of my friends know how to play chess.” He and I laughed, and Mr. Batman pushed himself up with his walker. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, pausing a moment before he shuffled off for an afternoon nap.

  I pushed away from the table and walked over to Ms. Whitmeyer. A couple of ladies to my right sat on a sofa together reading Cosmo—How to Pleasure Your Man in Bed—giggling like teenagers.

  I glanced down at Ms. Whitmeyer’s floral robe and powder blue slippers. She smelled of peppermint and Vaseline lotion. “Hi, Ms. Whitmeyer. How are you today?”

  Her face scrunched up, but she managed a smile. “I thought that was you,” she said.

  “My name is Lexi.”

  “What? Oh… I… I must be confused.” She twisted in her wheelchair. Her eyes widened, and her face paled as if the nurses had announced no more Jell-O would ever be served. The book that had been draped across her lap slid off into the floor.

  I knelt in front of her, and after picking up the book, I replaced it across her lap. “Are you okay, Ms. Whitmeyer? Can I get you something?”

  “No, thank you, dear.” She reached a shaky hand and grabbed mine. “Forgive me. For a minute there I thought you were someone else. You have the most beautiful green eyes, just like hers.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, but… like whose?”

  “Oh, never mind, child.”

  I let it go for now. “Has your son been to visit you?” That sounded smoother in my head.

  “Oh, yes.” She smiled. “He was here last week. He comes at least once a week. Have you met my Seth?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I believe I have had the pleasure.” A real charmer, that Seth. “Actually, I’d like to talk to him. Do you know how I can get a hold of him?”

  “Oh… dear… I have his number somewhere.” She started twisting and turning again. “But he’ll come this Thursday. He always comes right after his shift, at six p.m.”

  A nurse approached and placed her hands on the back of the wheelchair. “It’s time for Mrs. Whitmeyer’s bath.”

  “Oh, okay.” I nodded. “It was nice to talk to you.”

  “It was lovely to speak to you, dear.”

  The nurse wheeled Mrs. Whitmeyer away. She glanced over her shoulder at me twice before disappearing around the corner. “Exactly who are you, Seth?” I whispered to myself. “And how are you and your mom related to Sandra?”

  ~~~~

  I spread newspaper clippings and magazine articles about my father’s and Dr. DeWeese’s research across a blanket on the floor of Gram’s room. No mention of a Sandra Whitmeyer in the articles I had.

  How much did Jack really know? I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. I could go out on this date with him. What price was I willing to pay for the truths I suspected he was keeping from me? My heart? There was no denying that he reached parts of me I wanted to protect.

  Gram knitted a scarf or shawl or something in her chair and hummed a familiar tune from my childhood. Afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, and the aroma from the lilies that Jack sent masked the faint smell of antibacterial cleaner that pervaded the nursing home hallways and rooms.

  I sorted the articles by subject, but then decided chronological worked better. Stories of when Dad had won an award for identifying a specific gene believed to be at the root of many cancers. Articles about the goat cloning. And about the failure. Another when he turned down a huge grant to take stem-cell research to the next level in the United States because of “philosophical differences.”

  From time to time, I glanced up and admired my grandmother’s work. “Gram, that blanket you’re knitting is beautiful.”

  “Thank you, dear,” she said. “It’s for my new granddaughter.”

  I smiled and patted her hand. I was her only granddaughter. “I bet Peter and your daughter are so thrilled.”

  Even though Gram didn’t recognize me as her granddaughter, sitting with her comforted me.

  “Oh, they are. She’s their first child. And she’s so beautiful.” Her face lit up, but then drooped, more serious.

  “Gram, you okay?”

  She gave her head an absent shake. “Oh, yes, dear. I’m just a little worried about my daughter. Pregnancy has been difficult on her.”

  “Would you like to talk about it?”

  “Oh, no. We’ll just leave such matters for God to handle.” Just like that, she went back to knitting. I was used to those kinds of conversations. One minute we’re discussing something, then… nothing. She was always leaving the serious matters to her God in heaven.

  It was that simple for her. I stared at the twinkle that was back in her eyes as she hummed.

  Mom left Dad and me soon after I was born. Sometimes, I think it was harder on Gram than my dad or me. I’d always dreamed of knowing my mother, but since I had zero recollection of her and no one ever rushed to defend her abrupt exit from my life, it was easier to hate her for leaving.

  But not Gram. She surrendered such things. I reached to touch Gram’s hand and thought of Mom. Did Mom know what Dad did? Did she know I was the result of a mad scientist playing God? That my genetic makeup was altered in some way? Was that why she left?

  Maybe that explained why I looked nothing like the rest of my family.

  “You’re supposed to be at the University library.”

  I whirled around. “You scared the crap out of me, Jack.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, you’re lucky I didn’t get the dean, my father and the police involved in a search for you. My dad already wants to have your off-campus privileges revoked.”

  “He can’t do that.” I reached out both hands and shoved the papers and newspaper clippings into an unorganized mess, stuffing them into the folder they came in.

  “He can. And he will.” He squatted in front of Gram. “How are you today, Mrs. Matthews?”

  “Why, I’m fine, young man. Thank you.”

  I stood, still turning and tucking the articles that didn’t fit neatly inside the folder.

  Jack’s knees popped and cracked as he stood. His smile mocked and infuriated me. “Gram already loves me.” He winked at me.

  “Well, she’s way too trusting.”

  My grandmother’s hand grazed my arm. “He’s a handsome young man, isn’t he?”

  Flames crept up my neck and spread across my cheeks. “Yes, Gram, but it’s what’s inside here that counts.” I pointed to my heart. “That’s what you always taught me, right?” Gram looked confused. Jack chuckled. “This is starting to feel a lot like stalking, Jack. Why did you come here?”

  “To save you from being confined to campus weekend after weekend.”

  Because that would suck, for sure. Dean Fisher had canceled all off-campus travel before when a student was in danger. Like the time Rachel Denton was held at gunpoint outside the local coffee shop and ordered into a car. Had she not screamed and gotten the attention of a bank security guard, she would have been kidnapped. Wellington students were rewarded with six weeks of campus lock down after that. We wer
en’t allowed to go anywhere until the FBI discovered who the kidnappers were.

  “And we have a date.”

  I hadn’t forgotten. I slid the folder of articles into my book satchel. “Was that tonight?” I batted my eyelashes. I wanted to know about Sandra Whitmeyer more than ever.

  He cocked his head. “Why can’t you just accept that there are people who want to help you? Besides, a date with me beats going back to school.”

  He had a point. “Oh, I don’t know, Jack. Maybe it’s because the people trying to ‘help’ me barged into my life a couple of weeks ago. All starting with your father punching Dad in the face.” I swallowed hard. “And now my father is…” My voice dropped off. I looked over at Gram. She didn’t even know Dad was dead. I didn’t want to chance upsetting her on the rare occasion she caught back up to normal time.

  Jack moved closer and reached a hand to my arm.

  “Don’t.” I stepped back.

  He followed. “Don’t what?” He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s okay to be angry. To be upset. Have you even allowed yourself to mourn your father?”

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I crossed my arms, hugging myself tightly. “How can I mourn him, when I don’t even know who he was to me anymore?”

  “What do you mean? He was still your father.”

  “He messed with my genetic make-up. He created a freak.” I pulled in a deep, cleansing breath. “I’ve got to figure things out for myself. I realize I barely had contact with Dad before his death, but I always knew he was there. Somewhere. Now?” I glanced down at Gram, who had nodded off. “I’ve got nobody. If I’m going to navigate through this life… If I’m going to figure out my big purpose, I’ve got to figure some things out about who I am. Where I came from.”

  “Those are some really big questions.”

  “Don’t you dare make fun of me.” I heard the hitch in my tone, and I internally berated myself for it.

  “I’m not making fun.” His tone warmed. “I promise I will never make fun of this situation. I get it. I’m the only person in your life who gets it.”

  My hands shook. He was right, but I wasn’t ready to surrender fully to him or anyone. “So much of what’s going on is coming at me so fast, and my questions are piling up unanswered.”