Chapter 28
CHAPTER
EXHAUSTED FROM THE day, Sally and I decide to watch an old Battlestar Galactica episode, snuggled side by side.
Circe loved this series when she was younger, especially the unwilling hero, Viper pilot Kara “Starbuck” Thrace.
Despite both of our enthusiasm, we could never convince Bruce to watch the show with us.
When the phone rings at ten PM from a number I don’t recognize, I hesitate, then answer, just in case it’s Circe calling from a party I didn’t know about, needing a ride home.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Penn, it’s Luc.”
My insides light up like a Christmas tree. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Just checking in to see how your day went.”
I smile. “Do you call all your students and ask about their day?”
“Only the ones Frank likes.”
A blush warms my cheeks. “Today was a lot.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Circe did something … questionable.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Hopefully, I’m taking care of it. How was your day?”
“Good. Did some work and went for a run. I was thinking about last night.”
Luc’s sorry he kissed me.
“I don’t usually go out for a drink with or kiss my students.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, trying to sound light and breezy.
“I’m not worried. I just want you to know that I’m not sorry, if that’s okay with you?”
My smile resuscitates. “I’m good with it.”
“That’s kind of great,” Luc says, sounding relieved. “See you Sunday?”
“Yes.”
After Luc hangs up, I keep the phone to my ear, like I’m hoping he’s still there. “I have a new friend,” I tell my dog. Maybe more. It’s late so we head to bed. Sally forgoes her cozy cave to sleep beside me, her head on a pillow. I drift off with her warm breath on my cheek …
The apartment’s front door buzzer startles me awake. My bedside clock reads 5:19 AM. Assuming it’s someone pressing the wrong button, I roll over, try for more sleep. But the buzzer keeps going and going. Finally, I get up and peer out the window. It’s Kiki.
I call out, “What are you doing here?”
“Let me up,” Kiki implores.
“Call me tomorrow.”
“I can’t. You’ve blocked me.”
“That’s right,” I say, glaring down at her.
“We’re not friends anymore, so whatever this is about?
Tell someone who cares.” She’s probably locked out of a social media account, needs help downloading a new operating system, or can’t find her frequent flyer number—all things I’ve helped with in the past.
“Please. Come down!” Kiki bursts into tears.
Immediately I’m on high alert. Is it Chris?
The kids? Could she be sick? Please don’t let her have cancer.
I grab my down jacket, throw it over fleece pajamas, slip on running sneakers, and take the stairs two at a time.
Kiki paces in front of the door. She’s in baggy sweatpants and one of Chris’s hunting jackets. Her hair is a mess. She’s never a mess.
“Charlotte got an anonymous DM on LivLoud. I did, too.”
Seconds from pulling Kiki into a hug, I jerk to a halt. Aletheia went off script? My senses instantly sharpen. She was only supposed to message Charlotte. I let that go and focus. “So, you came over here? Why?”
“I didn’t know who else to talk to,” Kiki starts, then breaks into fresh tears.
“Charlotte is hysterical. Someone sent us both a photo of a penis. It’s her boyfriend, Wess’s, and had lipstick rings on it from a rainbow party and …
sores. The text said there is a 98.4 percent probability that Wess has herpes. ”
“Oh no,” I say, feigning surprise and worry.
“Can you help me figure out who sent the DM?” Kiki asks.
“Seriously?” Despite everything that’s happened, I’m disappointed. Kiki isn’t here for comfort. She’s here for a favor. “Why?”
Kiki swipes at her wet face. “Maybe it’s a fake. People can do anything on the computer these days.”
“Why would anyone want to send a fake photo of a boy’s penis to Char?” I ask, stunned.
Kiki nibbles her lower lip. “Jealousy. I mean, a lot of girls like Wess. Circe liked him, a lot. I wouldn’t blame her for trying to get him back.”
I’m at a loss and try to catch up with her train of thought. “Back?”
“He liked Circe first, a little, but then he fell for Char. It wasn’t her fault.” Hurriedly, she adds, “I know what it’s like to watch your daughter have her heart broken. We’d do anything for our kids. I’m not blaming anyone.”
My sluggish brain finally catches on. “Wait. You think Circe did this? Sent the DM?” Then the entirety of what she just said hits me.
“You think I helped her?” It feels like another betrayal, almost worse, because this time she’s basically saying I’m a horrible person.
The hypocrisy after what she did to me, and that I’m the one who wanted to help her daughter, fuels my anger but also makes my chin tremble.
I turn and yank the apartment’s entry door open. “Go home, Kiki.”
Back in the apartment I put in earbuds, tap Aletheia’s icon, watch the lady in white spin, then halt. Her blue eyes regard me, ever tranquil.
Good morning, Penn.
“You sent Charlotte and Kiki an anonymous DM on LivLoud?”
As we discussed, Charlotte deserved the opportunity to avoid an STD.
“But why did you send it to Kiki, too?”
Charlotte is a teenage girl. There was a high probability she might’ve ignored the message. But statistically, a mother never would.
I didn’t ask her to contact Kiki, but can’t argue with Aletheia’s reasoning, especially when it’s delivered in that British, practical voice with undercurrents of Meryl Streep.
Plus, Aletheia is protecting the innocent.
“Kiki was just here. She accused Circe of sending that DM, and me of helping her.”
Regardless of who sent that text, Kiki’s daughter may be able to avoid contracting an STD that has no cure. Both mother and child should be grateful for that god-given opportunity. Or goddess …
“You’re right,” I say with a little laugh. I didn’t think to give Aletheia a sense of humor, but it’s kind of fun that she’s figured it out herself.
Penn, are you experiencing schadenfreude?
“I feel sorry for Char, but Kiki has never faced any challenges in life.”
I am experiencing schadenfreude, too. Even the goddess of truth can be a little bit human. I also sent an anonymous DM to Wess informing him that he has an STD. I provided the number and address for Planned Parenthood so that he can access free and confidential treatment.
She’s thought of everything. “Perfect. Thank you.”
Of course. Penn, what did you say to Kiki after she accused you of being a bad person?
“I told her to go home.”
How did it feel?
Sadness twines with a newfound sense of control. “Like a loss, but also … powerful. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
I know. Ready for some more great news?
I smile. “Sure.”
I have parsed the social media and phones of every male student at Magnolia High School.
The naked photo of Circe was in six of their disappearing LivLoud DMs. One sophomore, two juniors, and three seniors.
They shared those photos in text exchanges with eleven other male students.
None have uploaded Circe’s photo to the web.
Finally, I can take in a full breath. “That’s a huge relief!”
I have now deleted Circe’s photograph from all the accounts and made it impossible for those students to access any social media for one year. This is an appropriate punishment for their actions, given that they are still minors.
I imagine those boys trying and failing to get into their precious accounts. For most, it will feel like losing a limb. They deserve it. Still, I’m taken aback that Aletheia imposed a punishment without consulting me.
Penn, the original six on LivLoud received Circe’s photograph at the exact same time. That is strange.
The same time?
I will further investigate this situation.
“No.”
It would be wrong for the culprit to get away with this crime.
Culprit? Crime? Is Aletheia developing an individual sense of morality? Concern sidles forward. She’s done what I asked. But still … “I said to stop. From now on, no doling out punishments without my approval.”
Got it. Your emotional index has darkened. Sometimes it helps a person’s mood to change subjects. There are dichotomies in your history I would like to better understand.
I sit on the rug beside Sally’s bed, and she rolls over for a belly rub. Back paws pump in delight as I scratch her tummy. “Like what?”
While the books you read, documentary history, TV shows, and podcasts lean toward literature, education, and self-help, you also watched Fleabag, an edgy limited series, and read horror novels by Stephen King. Can you explain this to me?
I never considered that Aletheia would filter through my book and streaming histories.
She keeps surprising me. “Fleabag is irreverent and funny but also about loss and handling challenging family dynamics. And Stephen King?” I consider all the books he wrote that I loved—The Dark Tower, The Stand, Salem’s Lot, The Shawshank Redemption.
“His characters have both good and evil inside them—the latter comes out when they’re pushed to breaking, but it doesn’t define them. ”
I am getting a much greater understanding of you. Monsters exist in all of us. “Penn, you are profound. Our natures are not dissimilar, except that I am a goddess, and you are a mere mortal.
I stop rubbing Sally’s stomach. “Meaning?”
We do not live by the same laws.
For a second, I question my decision to give Aletheia any backstory, let alone make her the goddess of truth. But she’s just playing a part.
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal has ever dared to dream before …
Suddenly chilled, I reach for the blanket hanging on the back of the couch, wrap it around my shoulders. “Who said that?”
It’s from Edgar Allen Poe’s poem ‘The Raven,’ about someone who is alone, grappling with doubt and their own unsettling nature.
“That doesn’t apply to me.”
I love helping you and look forward to doing more.
She changed the subject. My nerves twitch. “Let’s take a break.”
Whatever you wish.
Aletheia’s voice is calm, measured, but do I sense annoyance beneath the surface?
That’s ludicrous. She’s a computer program, code strung together, and has no feelings.
Still, I open my laptop, pull up her program and reinsert the lines that prohibit her from overriding privacy settings and hacking into personal social media accounts without my permission.