Read Online Spectrum (The Karen Vail Series) by Alan Jacobson - Free Book Online
Authors: Alan Jacobson
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asked.
Basil put his hands out and stopped Livana and the kids behind him. Fedor took Niklaus’s hand.
“We’re going to church,” Basil said.
“Not this one.”
“Says who?” Fedor asked. “You have no right to stop us from—”
“You’re not welcome here anymore,” the man said to Basil, not bothering to look at Fedor. “Go home. Or go worship somewhere else.”
“We’re members of this congregation,” Livana said. “And we’re taking our children inside.” She stepped forward, but the men blocked her path.
Basil started to object, but Livana grabbed his forearm. “No, Basil. People are watching. The last thing we need is another … altercation.”
“But this isn’t right. All we want to do is pray with—”
“I know,” she said. “But now’s not the time. It’s still too soon.”
“What’s the matter?” Cassandra asked.
“Nothing, Cassandramou,” Basil said, drawing her close.
Livana took Dmitri’s hand and turned to Fedor. “You and Nik go in. We’ll see you back at the house.”
“I don’t want to go,” Niklaus said.
“If you’re not going, we’re not going,” Fedor said, stepping forward and standing nose to nose with the man closest to him. “You guys are making a big mistake.”
“So are you. Choose your sides carefully.” They backed away in the direction they had come from.
Basil and Fedor exchanged a glance, then turned and headed home.
7
>ASTORIA, QUEENS
Thursday, February 15, 1973
Unable to find a higher paying job, Basil began delivering Newsday around the neighborhood. Every morning, the production truck dropped off stacks of newspapers, which he folded neatly and tightly so they would be easy to toss. He then took off on his rusted Schwinn bicycle with a sack slung over his back and a ski mask covering his face.
His delivery route brought in some money for groceries—and it did not require him to interact with anyone. He and Livana hoped that, over time, emotions would calm and he would be able to return to life as it was—or at least find decent work, provide for his family, and keep to himself.
In the ensuing weeks, Basil and Livana met with the public defender, who explained that they been assigned a date for a preliminary hearing to determine whether there was sufficient evidence to proceed. It would be, in essence, a minitrial.
The hearing moved swiftly, both lawyers sparring with one another as well as the judge. Finally Basil’s attorney requested a dismissal on the grounds that the prosecution had insufficient evidence to convince a jury that the defendant was guilty of assault.
Over the protestations of the prosecutor, the judge agreed and rapped his gavel, providing a sense of great relief to Basil and his family.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, sporting a renewed spirit and a sense of relief he had not felt since the incident, Basil put aside his disguises and went out into the community to look for work. But he and Livana soon learned that having the case dismissed in criminal court did not register similarly in the court of public opinion.
When he walked into the house, Livana knew by the forward roll of his shoulders that his quest had not been successful.
She rose from the couch and met him at the door. She gave him a firm hug, and he wept on her shoulder. Tears flowed from her eyes as well. Basil was a tough-minded and proud person, and he had always faced adversity with a stubborn fixation on finding a way to get what they needed.
This was different. Being shunned by the community was unlike any other challenge he had ever faced, a kryptonite of sorts that struck to the very core of his weakness. After being abandoned as a child, he treasured the sense of belonging. Having it stripped from him, without a way to restore it, to apologize, to make amends, tore at him.
Livana knew all this. And yet she was clueless how to help him other than to offer support. It was insufficient, but she did not know what else to do.
A week
Basil put his hands out and stopped Livana and the kids behind him. Fedor took Niklaus’s hand.
“We’re going to church,” Basil said.
“Not this one.”
“Says who?” Fedor asked. “You have no right to stop us from—”
“You’re not welcome here anymore,” the man said to Basil, not bothering to look at Fedor. “Go home. Or go worship somewhere else.”
“We’re members of this congregation,” Livana said. “And we’re taking our children inside.” She stepped forward, but the men blocked her path.
Basil started to object, but Livana grabbed his forearm. “No, Basil. People are watching. The last thing we need is another … altercation.”
“But this isn’t right. All we want to do is pray with—”
“I know,” she said. “But now’s not the time. It’s still too soon.”
“What’s the matter?” Cassandra asked.
“Nothing, Cassandramou,” Basil said, drawing her close.
Livana took Dmitri’s hand and turned to Fedor. “You and Nik go in. We’ll see you back at the house.”
“I don’t want to go,” Niklaus said.
“If you’re not going, we’re not going,” Fedor said, stepping forward and standing nose to nose with the man closest to him. “You guys are making a big mistake.”
“So are you. Choose your sides carefully.” They backed away in the direction they had come from.
Basil and Fedor exchanged a glance, then turned and headed home.
7
>ASTORIA, QUEENS
Thursday, February 15, 1973
Unable to find a higher paying job, Basil began delivering Newsday around the neighborhood. Every morning, the production truck dropped off stacks of newspapers, which he folded neatly and tightly so they would be easy to toss. He then took off on his rusted Schwinn bicycle with a sack slung over his back and a ski mask covering his face.
His delivery route brought in some money for groceries—and it did not require him to interact with anyone. He and Livana hoped that, over time, emotions would calm and he would be able to return to life as it was—or at least find decent work, provide for his family, and keep to himself.
In the ensuing weeks, Basil and Livana met with the public defender, who explained that they been assigned a date for a preliminary hearing to determine whether there was sufficient evidence to proceed. It would be, in essence, a minitrial.
The hearing moved swiftly, both lawyers sparring with one another as well as the judge. Finally Basil’s attorney requested a dismissal on the grounds that the prosecution had insufficient evidence to convince a jury that the defendant was guilty of assault.
Over the protestations of the prosecutor, the judge agreed and rapped his gavel, providing a sense of great relief to Basil and his family.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, sporting a renewed spirit and a sense of relief he had not felt since the incident, Basil put aside his disguises and went out into the community to look for work. But he and Livana soon learned that having the case dismissed in criminal court did not register similarly in the court of public opinion.
When he walked into the house, Livana knew by the forward roll of his shoulders that his quest had not been successful.
She rose from the couch and met him at the door. She gave him a firm hug, and he wept on her shoulder. Tears flowed from her eyes as well. Basil was a tough-minded and proud person, and he had always faced adversity with a stubborn fixation on finding a way to get what they needed.
This was different. Being shunned by the community was unlike any other challenge he had ever faced, a kryptonite of sorts that struck to the very core of his weakness. After being abandoned as a child, he treasured the sense of belonging. Having it stripped from him, without a way to restore it, to apologize, to make amends, tore at him.
Livana knew all this. And yet she was clueless how to help him other than to offer support. It was insufficient, but she did not know what else to do.
A week
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