Kathryn glimpses her reflection in the glass door as she enters the bank, her wide-brimmed hat obscuring her sunglasses and unpainted lips. She feels a tremor of anxiety as she steps inside, maybe she should have called Ted and asked him to come and protect her in her attempt to evade reporters. How many times has she made this trip, an envelope of cash in her purse, an ache in her lower back? But today, she has nothing to deposit, she is not shedding something illicit, but harvesting, harnessing the power of her patience. She sits in the familiar room with her safe deposit box. Instead of the habitual hurry, she sits quietly, pausing to formulate her intention, to gather a little prayer for her son. Michael had sounded like a small boy when he called, requesting money.
She removes all of the envelopes, extracts the bills from each one, makes a stack of cash on one side of the box, and discards the envelopes on the other side. With each envelope she thinks now of the sender, not some nefarious group making martyr payments, but Rashid, sending money anonymously through some local hawala agent. With each set of bills, she begins to understand his sense of devotion, his misguided idea of caring for them. As she closes the cover on the box she hears metal rattle inside. She reaches in, remembering now, retrieving two wedding bands, seeing again the inscription Beneath the Same Heaven on the gold band. She pauses, thinking to leave these rings to their darkness. But instead, she slides them into a pocket in her purse. She will return the box empty, close the account, end that chapter.
She rings the doorbell with both relief and apprehension. Her brother opens the door, gives her a feisty smile.
“Never a dull moment in your life, huh?”
Kathryn pauses, uncertain what to say.
“Come in, come in.” Ted smiles, “I’ve almost forgotten what you look like without those red lips.”
Janet comes into the hall, hugs Kathryn. “I’m glad you’re here. We’ll have a good dinner, it’s been too long.”
“Is Andrew here?” Kathryn puts down her bag, still full with the money.
Ted shakes his head. “But don’t worry, he said he’d come, we’ve seen him a couple of times since…since Rashid returned from the dead.” He exhales a little laugh.
In the kitchen Janet has already poured four glasses of red wine. “How’s your mother?”
“She’s a little older, a little more frail, but she’s been wonderful taking care of me.”
“And what do you hear from Michael,” Ted asks, “aside from what we see in the media?”
“He’s fine.” Kathryn doesn’t elaborate. “I don’t know where this is all going.” She accepts wine from Janet.
“Doesn’t seem to me this has to change your life too much,” Ted muses. “Rashid pleads guilty, goes to serve his time, you continue on with your life.”
She starts to object, as the doorbell rings.
“That must be Andrew,” Janet says moving to open the door.
“Mom,” he greets her sullenly. “Hi Auntie Janet, Uncle Ted.”
Kathryn winces, resists the urge to reach out to him, goes through the motions of conversation as they sit down for dinner. At last, when she can no longer stand the elephant in the room, she nearly blurts out, “I need to tell you all something. Something about Rashid that no one knows.”
“Oh fuck,” Andrew mutters.
Kathryn pretends she hasn’t heard him. “I have almost a hundred thousand dollars in my purse there. Cash.”
Andrew furrows his eyebrow. Kathryn rubs her lower back. “I received unmarked envelopes with cash in them every few months. I realize now Rashid was sending them, this money was for you and Michael. It’s about time I gave it to you.”
“My God, Mom!” Andrew leans his head back covering his eyes with his hands. “How many secrets are you going to suddenly reveal? Any more lies you’ve been telling me that you’d like to come clean about?”
“Shit, you got any piles of money in there for me?” Ted teases. Janet suppresses a smile.
“You can take my share, Uncle Ted. There’s no way I want anything to do with that money or that man.”
Ted scoops a forkful of salad. “I’d love to buy some surf toys with that cash, but it doesn’t belong to me. Take a little while to think about it, Andrew.”
Kathryn reaches for her wine. “Actually Ted, I was hoping you might make the deposit into Michael’s account in small increments, like you were supporting him.” She takes a sip. “You know, I just don’t want any questions from the feds about where this money came from.”
“Wow, now that I’m almost retired I could pick up a new career in money laundering.”
“Call it what you like, I’m asking for your help.”
“Yeah, I’m used to that.”