Page 22 of The Same Flesh
Tean rolled over in his sleep.His hand skated over Jem’s arm, and he made a noise in his throat, and Jem locked the phone and dropped it onto his chest.
Tean made the noise again.A question.
“Go back to sleep,” Jem whispered.“Everything’s okay.”
6
The next day, mid-morning, Tean drove south.
He’d grown up in South Jordan, but today, he headed for Midvale—a suburban city that was located between South Jordan and Salt Lake.Tean didn’t know much about Midvale.When he’d been growing up, the city had been considered—at least, by teenagers in South Jordan—to be lower class and, therefore, deserving to be made fun of.But in the years since, almost everywhere in Utah had experienced a real estate boom.The pressure of a growing population, and rising housing prices, had made almost everywhere in the valley expensive.
Although, Tean discovered as he pulled into the apartment complex, run-down pockets remained here and there.
Apparently.
Meadow Valley Park consisted of a cluster of white-sided buildings with aluminum-frame windows and the kind of minimalist landscaping that suggested the property owners, whoever they were, didn’t want to spend more than one penny necessary.The gutters didn’t droop or hang.The stairs weren’t rotted through.Tarps didn’t cover missing patches on the roof.But you didn’t have to take more than one look at the buildings, the grounds, and the parking lot full of rusted-out cars to know that nobody ended up here voluntarily.
When Tean’s parents had begun the process of getting a divorce in December, Tean hadn’t been able to talk about it—with either parent.His parents had sustained a fiasco of a relationship for over thirty years, mostly by ignoring their problems, displacing their frustrations, and soothing themselves with messages from church about the sanctity of family and the covenants they’d made to each other.After meeting Jem, and even more so after beginning to build a life together, Tean had wondered if his parents would ever understand how much more problematic it was to model a dysfunctional relationship as an example of a happy family than to just get a divorce and move on with their lives.
At first, or so Tean had gathered from his siblings, the divorce had seemed like it would proceed more or less amicably.Their mother had initiated it.Their father, after a short attempt to convince her to change her mind, would go along with it.He wanted her to be happy; that had been his refrain.When Tean had finally reached a place in his own life where he was ready to deal with his parents, one of his father’s first comments had been,I want her to be happy, and if I’m not making her happy, then I need to get out of her life.
The divorce had become less amicable when it came to dividing up assets.That wasn’t particularly a surprise; many divorces followed similar trajectories.By then, Teanwasinvolved, if for no other reason than because his other siblings were, in their usual way, absent when it came to actually handling problems.And so Tean had a front-row seat as he watched the masks fall off and his parents’ bitterness and resentment come out into the light.
The house had been the worst of it.
And so, now, Tean’s father lived in Meadow Valley Park.
His phone buzzed when he got out of the truck.The message was from Nasha:He’s not going to press charges.
Followed immediately by another:Jem isn’t allowed back at Rainbow House.
Tean hesitated and then wrote:Thank you for letting us know.And I’m so sorry.
Nasha didn’t reply.
After forwarding Nasha’s messages to Jem, Tean crossed the parking lot.The apartment was on the third floor of a walk-up—exposed stairwells, iron railings pitted with rust, the wind howling down the exterior corridor.Tean hadn’t visited before, so when he saw the picture of Jesus cut out of anEnsignand taped to the door, he had to take a moment to remind himself that he could do this.
He knocked.And then his phone buzzed.
When Tean checked it, a message from Amy said,Sorry, overslept.Here are the notes.And then there was an attachment.
Before Tean could look at the document, Seth answered the door.He squeezed Tean’s shoulder and drew him into the apartment.Several people were speaking softly, their voices overlapping.He stood in a small living room with carpet the color of recycled tires, a sagging sofa with ribbed upholstery, and an armchair with a polka-dot pattern.The faint hint of DI—musty, secondhand—hung in the air.
An opening connected to the kitchen, where two of Tean’s brothers stood: Corom and Tim.Buzzed hair.Stocky builds.Jem had once pointed out that Seth looked the most like Tean, which meant Seth was thinner than the others.Smaller.Jem had also pointed out the shared eyebrows.
“Where are Sara and Miriam?”Tean asked.
Seth rolled his eyes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tean said.
As Seth shut the door, he shrugged.“Everyone says they’re not taking sides, but…”
“Why would you want to be on either side?”Tean muttered.
With a quiet laugh, Seth shook his head.
Their father’s deeper voice mingled with the others for a moment and then fell silent again.Tean cocked his head, trying to make out the tone.“How’s he doing?”
