Let me tell you about the last night of fall quarter,
before we all left for break. I’m telling you this now, so that years from now, when I tell this story—these stories, I guess—people won’t call me out for making shit up. No. This is how it happened. Exactly how it happened.
So, like I said: let me tell you how it ends.
11:15 p.m., Friday
Oliver leaned forward in my desk-chair after I’d finished explaining to him what was going on with Brendan. “I mean, this might not be what you want to hear,” Oliver said. “But have you considered talking to a lawyer?”
“Fuck’s sake, Oliver,” I said. I buried my head in my hands.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Way I see it, the only way you won’t get nailed to the wall for this is by nailing someone else first.” He stopped and must’ve rethought his choice of words. “Er, you know.”
“God,” I said.
Gina put a hand on my shoulder. She was next to me on the couch. “Oliver’s just overreacting. You’re not involved, Charlie. There’s nothing for them to nail you on.”
“Well, technically,” Oliver said, “that may not be true. If you knew someone—a fellow CA, mind you—was growing pot in the basement of a university building, I’m pretty sure that’s the sort of thing you’d be obligated to tell someone about. So, that could be a problem.”
Gina gave him a dirty look. “Not helping, Oliver.”
He shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “Someone’s gotta say it.”
“Charlie?” Gina asked. “Are you okay?”
“Fffffuck,” I said, little flecks of saliva accompanying the drawn-out expletive. “Goddammit.”
“You’re gonna be fine, Charlie,” Gina said.
“Don’t tell him that if you don’t know it’ll be true,” Oliver said.
“But I do know,” Gina shot back, again giving Oliver that look. This time, he seemed to back down.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he said abruptly. “It’ll probably be alright.” He stared out the window, down to the street below, and he sounded distracted.
“I mean, we’re leaving for winter break tomorrow,” Gina said. “If someone was going to arrest you, wouldn’t it have happened already?”
“Fuckin’ I don’t know, Gina,” I said. “I don’t exactly have a surplus of information about what’s going on.” As was becoming a recurring theme in my life.
“And you haven’t talked to Brendan?” Oliver said.
“That’s actually probably a good idea,” Gina said. “His phone could be bugged, or something.”
“Now who’s overreacting?” Oliver said. He shrugged and got up. “I’ve got to go defrost my freezer. Try not to freak out too much, okay?”
So Gina and I were sitting on the couch together. I was caught up in my bullshit, so I didn’t say anything to her. A second later, her phone buzzed. She laughed quietly when she looked at the screen. Then she turned to me. “Rachel says hi.”
Rachel and Gina had actually become kind of close since Rachel’s visit. I guess they were similar enough in terms of personality, but that was a line of thinking I really didn’t want to pursue. Hey, my sister was friends with one of my friends. No problem with that. And although supposedly Gina’d actually helped Rachel through some of her lingering ennui, any time I asked about it more specifically I was rebuffed with, “Charlie, it’s a girl thing.”
Okay. Fair enough.
So it looked like it was going to be a night of doing laundry and hiding out from the cops. Typical Northwestern Friday.
1:45 a.m.
And so that’s how it went, more or less, for the next few hours. But I was sitting in my dorm, packing some clothes, when I got his message. “hey charlie,” it read, “admin building. fifteen.”
So I put on my coat and hustled out of Allison. Brendan was smoking a cigarette on a bench by the building when I got there. I was ten minutes early, but I guess he was earlier. I guess there was always something a little otherworldly about him. But that was almost certainly something he tried to affect.
“I was wondering if you’d show up,” he said.
“I’m here,” I said. “They got that kid, Miles.”
“I know,” he said. “You’re safe.”
“What?” I said.
“With Miles,” he said. “I know he was with us when I showed you around the place. And I know you, Charlie, and I know you’ve probably been having a grand-mal freak-out about the whole thing for the past week. That sucks, and I’m sorry that had to happen. But don’t worry. You’re safe.”
I didn’t know what I could say. “Um. How do you know?”
“Miles took the fall,” Brendan said.
“Bullshit,” I said. “He took responsibility for the Facility?”
“The Facility does not exist,” Brendan said. He looked me in the eye like he was forcing this new reality through my psychic pathways by sheer insistence. “The Facility never existed. You understand?”
“Brendan, you can’t just—“
“The entire operation has been liquidated,” he said. “It’s done.”
“No, but, Brendan—“
“Listen, Charlie,” he said. “There was a plan for if this happened. Miles knew it. I knew. We all knew what to do.”
“Jesus, Brendan,” I said. “You can’t just—I mean, he’s gonna be in some deep shit.”
“No,” Brendan said, “he isn’t. He’s a rich, white kid from Southern California. He’s literally the best possible person to get caught on a drug-rap. They got him with a couple of those eggs in his pockets. That’s all they know.”
“And meanwhile, I’m waiting to see whether the police decide I’m next,” I said. “Not to mention, you know, losing my job—which also, coincidentally, would leave me without a place to live.”
Brendan shrugged. “You know I wouldn’t let that happen to you,” he said. “I get you’re not happy with me right now.”
“Every time I hear a siren on Chicago, Brendan,” I said, “I wonder if it’s coming for me. Do you know what that’s like?”
He looked at me for a second like he didn’t know how to respond. “Yes, actually,” he said. “I’m a fucking drug dealer, Charlie. You think I haven’t internalized that shit? God. Of course I know what that’s like.”
Hm. Well, yeah. That was a good point.
“Sorry,” I said. “You’re right. I’m not involved. I never was. I never even tried the stuff.”
He smiled. “You would’ve loved it.”
“Yeah?”
And for a second he looked almost wistful, looking down Orrington at the city lights of Evanston. “Yeah.”
We sat there in silence for a second. “The whole thing’s gone?” I said. “All those lights, the big—I don’t know—the tanks, I guess? Everything?”
Brendan nodded. “It was probably for the best. Better we shut it all down before they do.”
“So that’s it,” I said. “That’s it for Purple Pride.”
“For now,” he said. “I’ve got a little baggie with some seeds in my desk, so who knows. Maybe the dorm room was a little brazen.”
“You think?” I said. He laughed.
“I really did plan out all the angles, you know,” he said. “It’s just—God. Fucking Jamie Woods.”
Jamie’s video had since fallen off the gossip radar, but apparently it had raised his profile enough that the record label was interested in doing another album. Sales of his stuff actually increased after the whole fiasco. What a fucking world.
“I’m sure you’ll get back on the wagon,” I told Brendan. He just shook his head.
“I’m not gonna be selling for a while,” he said. “You know. Keep my head down.”
“Sure,” I said. “Makes sense.”
“But we should hang out some time. Drink some beer, play some FIFA. Bobb’s boring if you aren’t drinking.”
“Yeah, definitely,” I said.
I saw him glance at his watch. He got up from the bench, brushed his coat off, and extended a hand. We shook. “Well, take it easy, Charlie,” he said. And then he walked off, leaving me sitting alone on the bench in the cold night.
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