Page 6 of The Banned Books of Berlin
Los Angeles, April 2024
It took Maddie a while to fall asleep once she was back in her seat and she was only dimly aware of Kate leaving the train early the next morning, too drowsy to fully rouse herself. When she woke properly a little later, the seat beside her was empty but the rainbow-coloured scarf had been tucked into her chair pocket, with a note that read, ‘Finished in the nick of time and wanted you to have this. Stay strong, Maddie – the world is still a good place, and it needs people like you.’
She wound the scarf around her neck, inhaling the faint smell of sandalwood and feeling its soft warmth seep into her skin. What a horrible person she was: grumpy and unappreciative to a kind woman who’d only been trying to help her. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced out of the window. By now the train had reached the Californian coast, and she reached for her sunglasses to look at the expanse of sparkling water, ruffled by the wind into a glittering silver mosaic. In places, the rail tracks ran so close to the shore that they might have been travelling over the sea. The ocean rose and fell in constant motion, swelling into waves that broke into foam before being sucked back to rejoin the surf. The rhythm was soothing. Maddie picked up her phone to take a picture, then laid it down again and simply watched.
The hours passed slowly and uneventfully. She took a shower, read her book, dozed, finished a crossword puzzle, took a sandwich from the café to the observation car, dozed and read some more, until finally she was stepping out into the warm night at Los Angeles station. From there it was only a short bus ride to Silver Lake, where Maddie’s mother and brother lived. Her parents had gotten divorced when Maddie was ten and Ben five, their father remarrying soon after and moving to the east coast. Maddie hadn’t heard from him in years and hardly thought about him; he hadn’t been a great dad even when he was around. Her mother had brought up the kids with the help of her own parents, and Maddie’s grandpa meant a hundred times more to her than her father ever had. She was suddenly eager to see him, suppressing the usual stab of guilt over not having kept more regularly in touch.
She’d only got halfway down the path before the front door opened and Ben was walking down the path to meet her, beaming.
‘He’s been waiting for you for a day and a half,’ said her mom, Sharon, as her children came into the house together. ‘Lord knows why you couldn’t have flown and spared us this torture.’
‘Great to see you, too.’ Maddie hugged her mother close with the arm that wasn’t thrown around Ben. She was home, with a pot roast in the oven and everything exactly as it should be: the grandfather clock ticking in the hall, the coiled rag rug in front of the stove and a jug of tulips from the garden standing on the battered kitchen table. She slid into her usual seat, her fingers feeling for the notch she’d naughtily carved into its edge when she was eleven – for reasons she still couldn’t fathom – and let herself relax.
Over supper, she caught up on the news they hadn’t been able to share in rushed phone calls.
‘I’ve been trying to help Gramps with the death cleaning,’ Sharon began, ‘but I haven’t really got time and we’re driving each other crazy. He doesn’t seem to realise that I might find talking about his death just a tad upsetting.’
‘I’ll go over tomorrow and see what I can do,’ Maddie said.
Sharon squeezed her hand. ‘Thanks. By the way, don’t be alarmed if he acts a little strange.’
‘How do you mean?’ Maddie asked, but before her mother could elaborate, Ben stood up.
‘I’m going to my room,’ he announced. ‘Good night.’
‘Ben!’ Sharon protested. ‘Maddie hasn’t finished eating. Sit down till we’re all done.’
Ben ignored her, carrying his plate to the dishwasher and taking an age to slot it carefully into place. He left the room without looking at them.
Maddie raised her eyebrows. ‘Is he OK?’
Sharon frowned. ‘He’s been a little unsettled recently. Don’t worry, it’ll soon blow over.’
Now Maddie thought about it, Ben had been uncharacteristically quiet over dinner. He usually loved to repeat the same stories over and over again, with as much enthusiasm as if he were telling them for the first time, but there had been no familiar anecdotes today. He’d also refused to answer when Sharon had asked him a question, which wasn’t like him at all.
‘I’ll check in on him later, once he’s finished his chores, and see if he’ll open up,’ Maddie said. Ben had an evening routine that never varied: tidying his room, putting out clothes for the next day and watching reruns of Friends on his iPad.
Sharon fetched them both another beer. ‘That’s enough about us. How are things with you, honey? Sorted things out with Steve?’
‘We broke up a few months ago, but it’s no big deal,’ Maddie replied. ‘A relief for both of us.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sharon said, patting her hand. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Maddie shrugged. ‘Like I said, it wasn’t a big deal. And I didn’t want you to worry.’
‘I do worry, though,’ Sharon said. ‘None of these boyfriends of yours’ – she made them sound like they were figments of Maddie’s imagination – ‘seem to last very long. That dreadful business with Aaron is bound to have affected you. Maybe you should have counselling.’
‘Mom, please!’ Maddie exclaimed. ‘When will you get it through your head that I don’t want to talk about that?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sharon said again. ‘What a terrible mother I am.’
‘Yeah, you are,’ Maddie replied through gritted teeth. ‘If I’d bought you, I’d take you back to the store for a refund.’
‘Seriously, though,’ Sharon said, scooping back her grey-blonde hair, ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about your childhood recently, wondering whether I got the balance right between you and Ben. Do you feel like you missed out? There must have been so many times when I wasn’t there for you.’
‘Relax, it’s fine,’ Maddie told her. ‘In some ways, Ben took the heat off me – I could get up to all kinds of stuff while you were focused on him. And Grandma and Gramps were always around.’
Ben had had open-heart surgery when he was three months old, and he’d been in and out of hospital for another year after that. He didn’t develop at the same rate as other babies or toddlers his age, and needed physical therapy sessions several times a week to help him progress. Throughout Maddie’s childhood, Sharon was constantly ferrying him to some appointment or attending yet another meeting to discuss the next steps in his care. Maddie couldn’t remember when she first heard the words ‘Down syndrome’, let alone ‘Trisomy 21’, the more formal name for Ben’s condition. He was just her precious brother, uniquely himself. She’d loved him from the moment her parents had brought him home from hospital, and had received unquestioning devotion in return. They fell out sometimes, like all siblings, but never for long.
All the hours she’d spent helping Ben with the exercises needed to develop muscle tone and help with his balance had strengthened the bond between them. As soon as he could walk, Ben had insisted on meeting her off the school bus, no matter how bad the weather, and he could never settle to sleep until she’d kissed him goodnight. Ben brought out the best in their family – except for his dad, sadly – teaching them to be patient and kind, open to embracing people who marched to the beat of a different drum. He had bucketloads of charm and a wicked laugh, and she wouldn’t have changed a hair on his head.
She helped her mother clear the dishes and sat with her on the couch for a while, trying not to fall asleep, before climbing upstairs. When Ben answered her knock, she opened the door to see him sitting up in bed in his pyjamas and perched nearby, choosing her spot with care. He hated the duvet being rumpled.
‘So, anything new to show me?’ she asked, looking at the trestle table on which Ben’s art materials were meticulously arranged. He’d shown an early passion and talent for drawing, and with Sharon’s help, the year before had started a business producing greeting cards and T-shirts featuring his designs.
He shook his head. ‘Still sunflowers and birds.’ Birds were Ben’s speciality: a line of them on a wire, all identical, with one doing something crazy like hanging upside down, wearing a top hat or a tutu, flying a plane or catching butterflies in a net. Sometimes he’d add a slogan: ‘Follow your own path’, or ‘See the world in a new way’; sometimes he’d let the picture speak for itself.
‘Can I have a look?’ Maddie asked, wandering over to the table. Ben’s sketchbook lay open, showing a drawing of one of his characteristic stick men with a round head and blobby nose, sitting with his legs drawn up in a bird cage. She studied it, looking for meaning, but was unable to find any, beyond a general air of sadness.
‘Here, I brought you something,’ she said, spotting the rainbow scarf at the top of her backpack. Surely Kate wouldn’t mind her handing on the love.
Ben examined the scarf solemnly, holding it against his cheek and looking suddenly so vulnerable that her heart ached for him. Everyone had their struggles but his were harder than most.
She draped the scarf around his neck. ‘When you wear it, you can think of me and it’ll feel like we’re closer together.’
‘Thank you.’ Ben grabbed her arm and pulled her close, burying his face into her shoulder.
‘Ben, is everything OK?’ she asked, when eventually he released her. ‘You’re not worried about anything?’ She was on risky ground here: her brother often couldn’t find the words to express his feelings and the effort left him frustrated.
‘Gramps has his own home and so do you.’ Ben tied the scarf in a careful knot. ‘I want one too.’
‘You mean, move out and live on your own?’ Maddie asked. He nodded. ‘Have you talked to Mom about this?’
‘She won’t let me. It’s not fair.’
‘Let me have a word with her,’ Maddie said. ‘This is a big step, Ben. We need to think about it carefully.’ She hugged him again. ‘But I’m so proud of you. My little brother, growing up.’
Sharon had always been careful to tread a fine line between encouraging Ben to develop new skills but not pushing him so far that he failed and became frustrated. Maddie could see her mother might have reservations, but surely Ben wanting some independence was a positive move? She was too tired to think straight now; they could all discuss the matter together tomorrow. Shouldering her backpack, she walked along the landing to the bedroom where she’d agonised, studied and dreamed her way through adolescence. Torn patches in the wallpaper showed where posters of boy bands had once looked down on her, and some of her old clothes still hung in the wardrobe. Lying back on the bed, she took out her phone to check for any messages – and then, because she couldn’t resist, to flick through her various social media accounts.
Some anonymous person had kindly alerted her to a new line of attack. On the discussion board devoted to annihilating her reputation, she saw a photograph of Ben that had been used a while back to promote his artwork. Underneath, Nightshade had commented, ‘Her brother’s retarded. Guess her mom had him when she was old,’ and someone else had added, ‘Prolly a smoker and drinker too.’
Maddie sat bolt upright. It was one thing to attack her, but to go for her family was crossing the line. And that word! How dare anyone reduce talented, funny, caring Ben to some ignorant label that was merely designed to hurt? How could they be so cruel? She was filled with a blind, irrational fury that had nowhere to go. If Nightshade had been in front of her, she would have let rip.