Mercywood
“The lot’s mud, we’re asking folks to park on side streets, and please respect driveways, but we’re relaxing enforcement tonight.” Snow collected on the shoulders of the clear disposable poncho and transparent cap cover of the Ilium PD officer assigned to direct cars.
Paulie thanked her and drove on.
“Jerk, can we park at Mercywood?”
Jerk groaned. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.” He pointed ahead. “Turn on Willard, use the staff gate.”
Paulie turned on the blinker.
“What’s Mercywood?” Kid asked, looking out the window as they turned onto Willard.
“The sign says this is the Pinewood School?”
They looked out the window at the seemingly endless wall of hedge behind wrought iron fencing. “That’s for the rich girls, right?”
Doyle snorted. “You’ve been in the Van Renwyck Room, but not Mercywood?”
“Doyle, Jerk hates the place.” Paulie said as he turned right into the staff gate.
“It’s my parents’ house.” Jerk told Kid over the right shoulder. He began to chew the side of his thumb and stopped himself. “They moved us in when I was 8.”
He wagged his finger back and forth past the gate. “School grew around a few private homes over the years, Tiny bought Mercywood and had it remodeled. Private sale.”
“Sir, do you have your staff badge?” The security guard had come out and was talking to Paulie.
Jerk leaned over toward Paulie’s window and began digging for his wallet. “We’re going to Mercywood. Name’s Theodore Van Renwyck. I’m on the list.”
He found his non-driver’s ID and handed it past Paulie to the guard.
“Just a minute.” The guard went back into the booth.
Jerk turned to Doyle. “No Chipmunks joke this time?”
Doyle rolled his eyes and ignored him.
Snow was melting on the inside of the doors, but the windshield was clear of fog.
The security guard came out. “Here you go, Mr. Van Renwyck. Sorry about your mom.”
Jerk stopped and stared at the guard as he returned the ID. “What about Norma?”
“I…” The guard blinked. “I mean, just that she’s been so sick, that’s all.” He smiled. “She brings me sandwiches sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Jerk said, voice low. “She does that.”
The gate opened. Paulie rolled the car forward, slowly. A hand-stenciled sign said ‘15 mph’.
“Right, then left, then right,” Jerk said.
“Thanks, it’s been a minute.”
“I feel claustrophobic again,” Kid said to Jerk. They tried to roll their window down farther, despite it being as low as it could go.
“Me too. Just a little farther,” Jerk said as they made the second right. He wished he could hold Kid’s hand, just then.
“This is Mercywood,” Jerk said, gesturing as they drove up the driveway.
The main building was a squat, anonymous Federalist brick box. Beside it loomed a smaller Brutalist addition, narrow vertical windows spaced every six feet, like cat’s eyes watching the approach. Both were dark in the diffuse twilight of the snow.
“Still ugly.” Jerk couldn’t think of anything else to say about it. He then added, “I’ll open the garage, you can park in there.”
Paulie followed the driveway as it curved around the hill the house sat on, descending slightly toward the back, where the two-car garage sat beneath the Brutalist addition.
Jerk got out of the car and punched in the code for the door. 1-7-2-3. They had let him pick it when they moved in. It was his favorite four-digit prime. The lights came on as the door rumbled open.
Both his parent’s cars were inside. Tiny’s Seville and Norma’s ancient Toyota Corona she hardly ever drove.
“Huh,” Jerk scratched the side of his head.
He turned and pointed “No room at the inn, park over there.”
“On it,” Paulie’s voice came back from beyond the smeared starbursts of the Diplomat’s headlights. He pulled his car over to the side of the driveway and parked it while Jerk punched in the code and the door closed.
“It’s so quiet, you’d think you were out in the country,” Kid said as they all got out of the car.
“Wait until Pinewood’s hosting a girl’s soccer tournament.” Doyle said. He stretched. “Oooh, it’s getting a bit nippy.”
Jerk looked back at the garage door. “If they didn’t drive to Providence, how did they get there?”
“Did Tiny drive down a car for your uncle Leo?” Paulie asked. Tiny had transported cars Norma’s brother had bought before.
“Maybe,” Jerk shrugged. He pointed to a spot hidden by the darkness. “Service gate to the side street is over there, 2-minute walk to Sacred Heart.”
Kid looked up at the back of the house as it loomed over them. “You said your parent’s house was a dump.”
“I think it is,” Jerk said, walking over. He slipped his hand into Kid’s. “Roof on the addition leaks more than The Broadside’s.” Kid squeezed.
Jerk tugged on Kid’s hand. “Com’on, we’ve got a memorial to get to.”