Unalienable Rights - Cover

Unalienable Rights

Copyright© 2012 by Robert McKay

Chapter 24

I spent 15 or 20 minutes guiding that exercise, and then called it to a halt. "You'll remember," I said, "that I mentioned a homework assignment. It's not difficult, and there's no due date, so y'all don't have to worry about making the teacher upset." I grinned at everyone, and they smiled back – all but Dr. Bernard, whom I'd never seen look more than neutral. She apparently wasn't a happy person, or at least didn't show it if she was.

"What I want y'all to do," I said, "is when you've got some free time – here and there, in between chores or while you're eating lunch or whatever – keep thinking about this. I've got some stuff here I can work with, but I suspect there's more floating around in your minds that just hasn't popped up yet. And remember, I'm not looking for hard evidence, not just now. I'm after impressions, even if they don't seem to make sense and even if they don't seem important to you. Can y'all do that?"

Everyone nodded, even Dr. Bernard.

"Good." I looked at my watch. "I'll leave y'all some cards," I said, dug a few out of my shirt pocket and passed them around. "Call me if you think of something – if you get the answering machine, just leave a message. It's now just a bit after 5, and I know y'all want to get on home, so I won't keep you. Thanks for coming and thanks for helping me out with this."

We all got up from the table, and Dr. Bernard showed me out, not that I would have gotten lost. She unlocked the door, and I stepped through it. As I was getting into the Blazer the rest filed out, splitting up to go their separate ways. As I backed out of the space I was in, and then turned toward the driveway, I saw a guy in the uniform of the security company, and gave him a wave. I could see a pistol on his hip, so I knew that Dale Volker was still doing as I'd asked. I hoped, as I turned onto Montgomery, that I could find this guy soon so that he could go back to his normal scheduling.

At home I parked in my usual spot and headed for the door. It opened ahead of me, and as I stepped in Darlia wrapped herself around me. "I love you, Daddy!" she squealed, a feat which I'd swear that low raspy voice was incapable of if I hadn't been hearing it all her life.

I've about quit picking her up – she's nearly 11 years old, and heavy for her age. I can do it, but it's tough. So I got down on one knee and gave her a hug, and she gave me a kiss. She likes to make 'em slobbery, but this time it was just an ordinary kiss, after which she pulled back and grinned at me. "See, Daddy – I'm acting like a big girl!"

I brushed my hand over her hair, which as always swept straight back from her forehead and down her back, by now down to her waist. She'd braided the temples a lá Chief Joseph, and she looked so beautiful that it was a wonder she didn't have a boyfriend ... though probably the boys were, like her, still uninterested in such things. "You are a big girl, 'Lia," I told her. "And I'm glad that you're learning that. Probably I ought to have started explaining it sooner than I did."

"That's okay, Daddy. I know you love me."

"I do. I love you more than I love ... shoot, more than I love vanilla Coke."

She grinned. She's got a broader face than Cecelia, almost square, and fuller lips, though her African nose comes right from her mother. On that square face Darlia's grin was a light of pure joy. "Then you must love me a whole lot!" she said, and ran off into the kitchen where she started chattering at Cecelia.

For that's where my wife was, as she very often is. I hung my hat and jacket on the rack, closed and locked the door, and went that way myself.

Cecelia was stirring something on the stove, and when I peered over her shoulder I saw that it was beef stew. She doesn't make stew often, for none of us are greedy for it, but when she does it's as good as beef stew can ever be. I sniffed, loudly, right by her ear, seeking the giggle that I got.

"You are a small child, Darvin," she said. "I think I shall send you to your room without supper."

I grinned. "My supper's right here," I said, putting my arm around her waist.

She continued stirring, a darker shade coming up in her face. "You are incorrigible, my husband. After all these years are you not yet sated?"

"After all these years I'm just gettin' started. I ain't tired of eatin' your cookin' yet, after all."

She nodded. "I understand the analogy – and I appreciate the truth it conveys, for I remain 'hungry' fully as much as you do. And knowing that there is one man in this world who loves me in that way, as well as in all the other ways you love me, is a comprehensively gratifying thing."

"I think that's the first time I've ever been comprehensive," I said with a smile. "How soon will this be ready?"

"In just a few minutes," Cecelia said. "If you'll go wash up, I'll set the table."

"Coolness," I said, and went to do as she'd said.

When I got back Cecelia was just putting the pot of stew on three pot holders she'd set out to protect the wood and the finish. There were bowls in our places – Cecelia at the head of the table, Darlia to her left next to the counter, and me to her right with my back to the bay window. I saw a bottle of Coke at my place, a steaming cup – of coffee, I knew – at Cecelia's, and a glass of iced tea where Darlia would sit. Cecelia looked up at me and smiled. "As I expected, it is time to eat."

"Coolness," I said again, and pulled out my chair. Darlia appeared from somewhere – I hadn't seen where she was – and hopped up into her chair, while Cecelia sat between us, as regal as any Egyptian queen. Indeed, her profile reminds me of Nefertiti's, though Cecelia's nose is flatter and her neck shorter. Otherwise, though, I've married a woman with a wedge-shaped profile.

Cecelia spooned out stew for all of us, and we dug in. I was just finishing my second bowl, and thinking about a third, when Cecelia surprised me. "When does Marla graduate?" she asked.

"May 17," I told her. "You plannin' on goin'?"

"No, I hadn't made such plans; however much she is my friend, she is more yours. My thought was along other lines. You are going to need another secretary."

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