“And she didn’t look academic,” said Milo.
“Not hardly.”
“Inappropriate how?” I said.
“I really don’t want to talk ill of my sister.”
“I understand.”
Marsh pinged his cup some more. “Both times she wore halter tops with no backs, very, very short skirts, spike heels, lots of makeup.” Marsh sighed. “There was faculty all around, people were staring. The first time I let it go, figuring she didn’t know what to expect. The second time I said something to her and it was a very tense meal. She cut it short, announced she had to go, and just walked out without saying good-bye. I didn’t try to follow her. Afterward, I realized I’d been a prissy jerk, phoned her to apologize, but she didn’t return the call. I tried again but by that time her number was inactive. A month later I heard from her, and she didn’t mention a thing about walking out. I asked for her new number, but she said she was using prepaid cell phones—disposable, so there was no sense copying down the number. I’d never heard of that.”
“She say why she was using prepaids?”
“She said it was simpler. I took that to mean she didn’t have enough of a credit history to get a real phone account. Or she had no permanent home.”
“Out on the streets?”
“No, I think she was living somewhere, but not in a permanent place. I tried to find out, she refused to tell me. I took that to mean she thought I’d disapprove.”
Ping ping. “I probably would’ve. Christi and I are very different.”
I said, “She called you to reconnect.”
“She managed to track me down at the History Department, I walk in one day and find a message in my box that my sister called. At first I thought it was a mistake.” Cody Marsh winced. “I didn’t think of myself as having a sister. Christi and I have the same father but different mothers, and we didn’t grow up together. Christi’s significantly younger than I—I’m thirty-three and she’s . . . was twenty-three. By the time she was old enough to relate to, I was in Oregon, so we really didn’t have a relationship.”
“Are her parents alive?”
“Our father’s dead. And so is my mother. Christi’s mother is alive, but she has serious mental problems, has been institutionalized for years.”
“How many years?” I said.
“Since Christi was four. Our father was a raging alcoholic. As far as I’m concerned, he killed my mother. Smoking in bed, blind-drunk. My mother was drinking, too, but the cigarette was his. The house went up in flames, he managed to stagger out. Lost an arm and part of his face, but it didn’t put a dent in his drinking. I was seven, went to live with my maternal grandparents. Soon after, he met Christi’s mom in a bar and started a whole new family.”
“Serious mental problems,” I said.
“Carlene’s schizophrenic,” said Marsh. “That’s why she hooked up with a one-armed, scar-faced drunk. I’m sure drinking was what they had in common. I’m sure drinking and living with my father didn’t help her mental state. I was the lucky one, my grandparents were educated, both teachers, religious. My mother was trained as a social worker. Marrying him was her big rebellion.”
“And he raised Christi after her mom was institutionalized?”
“It couldn’t have been much of a raising. I don’t know the details, I was living in Baudette, and he took Christi over to St. Paul. I heard that she dropped out of high school, but I’m not sure exactly what grade. Later, she went to Duluth with him—he was working on some sort of land crew. Then back to St. Paul. A really bad neighborhood.”
Milo said, “Sounds like you kept tabs.”
“No,” said Marsh. “I heard things from my grandparents. Filtered through their biases.” Marsh worked several strands of hair over his face, spread them back, shook his head. “They hated my father, blamed him for my mother’s death and everything else that was wrong in the world. They loved recounting his misfortunes in great detail. The slum neighborhoods he was forced to live in, Christi failing in school, dropping out. Christi getting into trouble. We’re talking editorializing, not straight reporting. They saw Christi as an extension of him—bad seed. They wanted nothing to do with her. She wasn’t their blood. So Christi and I were kept apart.”